AT HOME IN HONDURAS

(NK) We settled in for a mammoth road trip from Lake Atitlan to Honduras. Don’t let the relatively short distance on a map deceive you. The roads are unpredictable in many ways. Police checkpoints, speed hump riddled villages, crater sized potholes, truck drivers driving like today is their last – the usual Latin American nonsense that makes every journey interesting.

We had another attempt at getting around Guatemala City without it pulling us in, which we failed at, but were soon on open country roads. We hadn’t bargained on a two-hour wait in a traffic jam, which we presumed was another accelerator happy lorry driver who’d overturned his load.

Traffic, what ya gaan do!?

After seeing many police cars shoot past, we arrived at the scene expecting to survey the carnage but instead found an unusual situation. Everyone in the village was out but there appeared to be some kind of stand off going on. Sticks were the weapons off choice for most participants, except the police who were armed with their usual shotgun and hand grenade combo. We didn’t stay to see what happened, so that’s where the story ends really. The point is, that we were very bloody late getting to the border. So late it was now dark and we were driving in Central America, which is a big, no-no for gringos like us.

We weren’t sure what the rules on driving AND crossing a border in the dark were. So we just did it.

The crossing was surprisingly easy. You hear stories about touts trying to make money and photocopy hell with documents, but the Guatemalan officials at El Florido just made it really easy and everyone hanging around the border just wanted to be helpful. Again, the guide done by the guys at Life Remotely proved invaluable. Thank you Guat and goodbye – probably our favourite country so far!

Honduras got off to a shaky start. The customs woman who was sorting our passports and tourist cards had Celine Dion’s Heart Will Go On Titanic song blasting on the stereo. Fi started to sing along - I hate to say - fairly badly, and got a filthy look from Mrs Immigration, who then turned to me and pulled a face. A face that said - where’d you find her?

Importing Trisha, Fi had much better luck. The customs guy clearly fancied her and kept asking about her name and where it was from, why was she called that?

He’d then wistfully look into his computer screen repeating it ‘Fee ownAAA, Fi (pause) O nA.’ Before asking for the third time if we were married or just friends. If it ‘d been North Africa I’d be writing this alongside my new camels.

We hit the highway (in darkness) fully expecting corrupt police or the elusive bandits that we’re yet to see anywhere. Luckily an overnight stop in Copan was quite close so no dramas.

On arrival in the town the first three place we tried were booked up. Usually after a 12 hour drive not without it’s stresses, arriving in a town you don’t know in the dark, hungry, tired and being without accommodation, would be a trial to say the least. Three months ago we’d be in all kinds of panic. This night we calmly went about our business with our evolving Spanish and eventually found a little place that even had somewhere safe for Trisha to sleep.

The next day on the road to La Ceiba for our ferry to the Bay Islands we practiced a new technique called ‘the smile and wave’. Along with being the murder capital of the world, Honduras has a reputation for police that will always find a way to extort money. As we’d learnt, reputation precedes these Latin American countries and the reality is often much more sedate. We had also been through too much to be worried about corrupt police – the game was on!

The first technique for checkpoint avoidance was to hug the car in front concealing our US plates that can sometimes make us a target. By avoiding eye contact you can sail through quite easily. If there’s no car to hug and the police official puts his hand up for you to stop, this is when you employ ‘the smile and wave.’

You simply grin like an idiot, wave right back and drive straight past, pausing only to look in your mirrors at an irate official kicking the dirt. We managed to get all the way to La Ceiba port without being stopped once. It is of course all about timing and technique. Too obvious and they may come after you but this is Latin America after all, so I don’t think they can be bothered.

The port has a secure car park so we were happy to leave Trish for a few days and jumped on the ferry for our pleasure cruise across the Caribbean that unfortunately for us, turned into a scene from The Perfect Storm.

As the boat rocked and rolled against the increasingly large swells, the chundering began all around us. Fi and I talked very little and just kept staring at the horizion while we tried to keep our stomachs in check.

Stormy waters

(FK) I actually felt okay for once as the fear of capsizing overpowered the seasickness. However, the ferry ride proved to set the tone for further boat excursions and my continual feeling of being on a boat permanently for the next week.

We were pleased to arrive in Utila and Utila Dive Centre, the dive school we were diving with, met us at the dock and took us to where we’d be staying. We were doing our advanced course, which cost $299 but included four nights accommodation and two extra dives. A pretty good deal no matter where you are.

Utila town

It felt so good to know we were getting back to the ocean. After a couple of fun dives we got stuck into our Advanced course – five dives consisting of buoyancy, navigation, night dive, deep dive combined with a wreck and drift combined with naturalist – they sure do give you value for money on Utila. The proceeding storms had left the sea conditions pretty rough so we were fortunately/unfortunately confined to the bay with pretty straightforward dives but challenging surface conditions and near life and death experiences of trying to haul our arses back on to the boat. Perhaps not the type of exhilaration we were after but fun never the less and helped us notch up our 40^th dive.

The Haliburton wreck

We were comfortably settling into island life having booked into a $10 a night guesthouse with plans to do more diving. This was until we spotted a poster for free diving and a two-day course. There are mixed views in the diving community on this sport, those who seem to be anti and never done it and those who have and are converted. Whatever side you sit on, the thought of diving to 20 metres without a tank on and just a breath of air had us shit scared, so we signed up. Gulp.

Tex (yes from Texas) was our tutor for the course and owner of Apnea Total Utila. His opening gambit to the course was “free divers have created a mystic around the sport, encouraging people to think it is dangerous and that only the few are capable of doing it. Making it an elite club to be part of. Well, I’m here to prove it’s totally safe and a sport for anyone to do and you will be able to go to a depth of up to 20 metres by your second day.”

Tex AKA Poseidon

I was somewhat skeptical, having only just got the hang of going under water with my snorkel a few weeks previously. After a classroom session on physiology, yoga like breathing techniques and watching some awesome freediving videos, we went home to practice our ‘breath-up’. The next day I was half hoping that the sea would be too rough to go out on but low and behold, it was like a millpond, so off we went. We arrived at the Haliburton wreck, one of the 30metre scuba dives we had done a few days previously. We both managed to get to 12 metres by the end of the two-hour session and could clearly see the top of the wreck and scuba divers watching us with interest. Tex then went down to 30m and had a little swim around the wreck. Everything in your mind is telling you that you need to breath, your body is giving you signals but the reality is that your breathe up creates the right conditions to do this and you have more than enough oxygen in your body to stay underwater a lot longer.

What it looks like underwater

Although I was pleased with what I had managed to accomplish, it was not reached comfortably and I confessed to Neil afterwards that I didn’t think free diving was that enjoyable or really for me. What I actually meant was – that really mentally pushed me like nothing else, I was totally out of my comfort zone and I don’t have the confidence to go any deeper. You see, free diving makes you face your fears head on. There is nowhere to hide and only yourself to trust in – my head was scrambled.

(NK) I must say at this point that I have rarely been prouder of Fi. Free diving is a very mental sport and in all sports it is often the mental part that is the toughest. It’s not just about being focused but learning to handle one of your most instinctive fears, the fear of drowning. Your brain and your body, work together to send signals in an attempt to scare you back to the surface. They want to keep you alive. Your capabilities and mammalian dive reflex, however, are able to push you deeper and for longer than you often realise – if of course, you can stare the fear down and say no to the signals.

Not an easy thing to do 40ft below the surface when you’re convinced you have no air. It reminded me of the fears you face before a fight. The signals that make you go weak and increase your heart rate. All the things you don’t want to happen if you’re to perform well. Your body and mind basically try to betray you. They create physiological impulses to make you flee the situation and push fear and doubts to the forefront to convince you that it’s a bad idea.

It’s extremely hard to be confident in these situations and extremely easy to back down and run or make excuses. That’s why I felt proud. I was very scared myself and felt the signals, but have been through them before fights, so they now have a familiarity. It made me very happy to see Fi going through that same battle with herself and winning.

That night it was my birthday and we’d been invited round to dinner by Ella and Pablo, an English girl and a Guatemalan guy who were living on Utila while Pablo became a scuba instructor. We kept bumping into them and Fiona had decided in her head that we would be friends after the first time we’d seen them.

They cooked us a great birthday dinner and a few beers and a bottle of Flor De Cana later we’d become firm friends. Their toddler Bo even came out to join the party before we left in the early hours of the morning. Our mentor, Tex, had luckily given us a get out card as it was my birthday and had kindly offered to move our next session by a day to accommodate our hangovers.

Tex knew exactly what was going through our minds on the second dive, I think he is actually part Jedi.

“I bet you’re thinking there’s no way you can possibly go deeper than 12m, but you will.”

This time Lisa, another free dive instructor came along and we benefited from both of them coaching us. I learnt that even at 10m and with two wetsuits on, I’m negatively buoyant as I let go of the line to see if I would sink or rise. I sank.

We also worked to improve the way we moved in the water in terms of efficiency. After doing some more dives Fiona reached a record 16m. Then it was time for fun as we practiced black outs and how to treat a free diver that has a surface blackout. We were also shown how to do the Jesus Christ. Instead of pulling or swimming back to the surface you simply lie back and stretch out your arms in a cross. The water and air in your lungs does the rest.

(FK) After overcoming my fears, the second day of diving left me absolutely buzzed but also very calm. I can see why this sport becomes very addictive. I learnt so much more than just how to dive deeper in water on only one breath. I learnt a lot about myself, my capabilities, how to face my fears and overcome them.

All done

(NK) A great day of diving and Fi’s depth record was capped off by a yoga session with Lisa, making us feel very mind/body connected. It’s rare to meet special people like Tex and Lisa and privileged is the best word I can think of. We left them feeling better versions of ourselves with another new appreciation and perspective on life.

A reoccurring theme that keeps cropping up on this trip is appreciation. When you stop thinking about the things you want or don’t have and focus on the amazing things you do have. Yourself, your health, each other, family, friends, the world around you. They’re all that much better when you give them the appreciation they deserve.

We left Utila feeling ready again to take on the roads of Honduras. I have a feeling we will be back one day.

IT'S A DOG'S LIFE

FK - Never count your chickens before they hatch is a phrase I would do well to remember. Having felt rather relieved to have escaped Neil's bug, it decided to strike as we waved goodbye to Yanni and Michelle in Coban and we started out on a long drive to Antigua via Guatemala City. The capital was not on our list of must see destinations, but rather a 'needs must' to pick up a new charger for Neil's mac book (now the property of new owner in Flores) and some flippy floppies as his Havianas has died back in Belize.

After some death defying driving (not as bad as Mexico City might I add), we got on the road to Antigua $100 lighter, but armed with said items plus a Cinnabon for when I was feeling better (all I could think of was where my next toilet stop would be). Neil vowed NEVER to drive there again. We headed into Antigua just as dusk was falling, I felt terrible but could just about appreciate the amazing volcanic backdrop to the beautiful UNESCO World Heritage status town.

The steep road down to  Antigua

After a false start at the Black Cat Hostel (awful room, banging techno which would be great at any other time, reports of the dreaded bedbugs and only a shared bathroom), we booked into another very cute place round be corner where I promptly went to bed for 24 hours and left Neil to explore.

Feeling a lot better the next day, Neil had discovered an organic shop and bought me a kombucha tea. "Do you want the good or the bad news first?" Bad I replied, "the car's been broken into BUT the good news is they haven't stolen anything, despite your phone and camera being in there." Phew! "Do you want the good or bad news?" Bad I replied again. "There's nowhere in Antigua to get this fixed, BUT the good news is I've got to drive back to Guatemala City, but this time I've got a guy who's coming with me to direct for 100Q!" Lesson learnt, don't leave anything in the car that you aren't prepared to lose, always park in a secure car park and never say never especially in Latin America!

(NK) My new friend taught me to drive Guatemalan style, change lane first, then look in your mirrors and indicate. He just kept shouting 'Go!' and pointing. As we pulled into a favella style neighbourhood it became clear he didn't know exactly where he was going as he was stopping to ask around. We then pulled into a warehouse where we were greeted by a mustachioed man with a huge shotgun. Not to worry, this friendly chap was just the security guard for the garage. A necessary clause in the insurance contract. 

We ended up having some good craic and it took them less than an hour to replace the window. I was still relieved to get going and see how Fi was recovering back in Antigua.

(FK) Antigua made us feel festive for the first time, with a chill in the mountain air we wrapped up and wondered around its cobbled streets. We decided to treat ourselves to an early Christmas dinner of venison stew and rum, followed by fireworks and hot chocolate. Perfect.

Together at Christmas

I love how fate works its magic. Both Neil and I had been feeling a little homesick, missing being with our family and friends over Christmas including Pip Dog. We happened to see a poster for an animal shelter, Animal Aware – the largest no kill shelter in Central America, was looking for volunteers. A bit stuck for what to do over the festive period, we thought what better way than to spend it with a load of canine companions and doing something other than getting totally pissed, spend loads of money and eat our body weight in food for a whole week.

So off we trekked the next morning to Animal Aware, which was located about 7km from Antigua, out in the countryside. We arrived and were greeted by the owners of the shelter - Xenii, a Californian former fashion designer and Martyn, a Londoner and ex teacher. Both were clearly a little kooky (something which Martyn said helped with running the shelter!), but genuine good hearted people who were trying to educate locals about animal welfare and spaying and neutering whilst caring for 320 dogs and puppies and 80 cats and kittens, plus a handful and chickens and rabbits thrown in for good measure. With only 10 staff in total, the majority of which were off over the holidays, our help couldn’t have come at a better time.

We were given a guided tour of Hound Heights and the Pussy Palace with Xenii explaining that our job would be to look after the puppies and clinic animals, clean and feed them and walk our nine packs of dogs, each consisting of between three and nine dogs. Plus get involved with anything else that needed doing. Simple hey.

To say we were a little overwhelmed by the enormity of the task was an understatement, but we rolled our sleeves up and got on with it. We were shown the ropes by two other volunteers – Lydia and Angela, the latter we discovered had been to the shelter many times with her husband and had even adopted three dogs and a handful of cats, taking them home to Canada and helped in all sorts of wonderful ways.

Dog heaven

We had planned to stay on site in the volunteer’s casita, but having got changed for bed after our first day on the job I climbed into the top bunk only to discover I was sharing my bed with a lone flea and one of the resident cats Lisa-Claire. My allergies were in over-drive and no amount of puffs on my inhaler was going to help. The relief on Neil’s face said it all when I croaked “I can’t stay here”, he was up and dressed by the time I climbed down off the bed. It was past nine pm and the local hotel was all shut up, so we had our first night sleeping in the car.

Our typical day started at 7.30am, a quick stop to pick up a pocket full of treats before we walked down to the clinic to see what horrors awaited us. Some of the packs were already being walked and came to the gate to greet us, they weren’t daft, they were after a back scratch and some biscuits.

Big softies - Japeto having some afternoon love

The clinic housed new animals, ones that were ill, just had babies or had been fixed. Having been in their crates over night meant some of the young’uns had lots of nice presents waiting for us, smeared everywhere! The next two hours were like a military operation. One person let the dogs out in small groups, took the well ones for a walk, took the puppies out to play, whilst the other cleaned the crates and outdoor puppy pens, water and feed them all.

Mama's nine puppies in the clinic - eyes opening and starting to wriggle about

Once this was done, the pack walking started. Armed with a list that one of the other volunteers had written (in Spanish), we had to figure out who was who, who needed to be put on a lead and what dogs could just run free. Slightly daunting when you’re faced with a pack of six highly excited mutts who can not wait to feel the wind in their ears.

Peekaboo - found in a ditch with really bad mange and worms - all her fur fell out so we would take her out for an afternoon in the sun to warm up

Someone take Scott, the most annoying but most loveable snaggle tooth dog!

The afternoon was followed with letting the clinic dogs back out, more cleaning up, having a rough and tumble with the six puppies, walking the remaining one or two packs and then finished with another play time and feeding at the clinic. An action packed day that became our daily routine for nearly two weeks, usually filled with some dramas of dogs that disappeared on their walks, a few minor scraps, lots of avocado eating and loads of love and fun. Home time came at around four pm and I’ve never been so grateful for a hot shower and clean surroundings provided by a Guatemalan shelter supporter Darvy and his family in nearby San Lucas.

One eyed Sparrow was found with kids throwing stones at her - she loved avocados

We were only planning on staying a week, but after Martyn and Xenii plied us with enough rum and wine on Christmas day at a wonderful and unexpected feast; Xenii said they really needed us to stay until after New Year as they were so short staffed. What could we say? It’s hard dirty graft but we get to spend the day walking in the woods and playing in the meadow with some of the most amazing dogs we have come across who gave their unconditional love and trust to people they have only just met.

Picture perfect Christmas

In another twist of fate, our newly acquired friends, Michelle and Yanni had been in touch to say they had changed their plans and were coming to Animal Aware to help out. Brilliant, getting to spend the day with the animals and our mates was perfect, plus Yanni and Michelle are such calming people that they were ideal for the pooches and weren’t fazed at all by all the poo and pee you ended up being covered in (or maybe that was just me). It also meant that as a bonus we got to spend New Years Eve with them too, a slightly different affair than our usual shenanigans, a lovely dinner with one cocktail and in bed by 11! Well I certainly didn’t fancy dealing with all that dog shit on a hangover!

Always wanting kisses

And from me too!

Although we knew our trip needed to continue and were looking forward to what lay ahead, we were very sorry to leave and say goodbye. It is so sad that these animal end up here, many have been tied up to the gate and left, some macheted in the head and back, others fending for themselves on the street and many given up by their owners as they are no longer small and cute puppies. The reality is that the majority will never be adopted into a loving family and will spend their last days here, but I cannot think of a more loving and better environment for them to be in.

A massive shout out of appreciation to everyone who looks after these forgotten animals including Darvy, Ligia, Angela, Brad, the voluntary vets and all the amazing volunteers. Last but not least the wonderfully caring and endearingly crazy Xenii and Martyn.

the wonderful Xenii and Martyn

Angela bought a 6 months supply of cat food for the shelter

Darvy and Neil's favourite dog - Mina Mina!!!

 It maybe along way from the comfort of your home but  Animal Aware needs your support as it runs purely on donations and goodwill – you can volunteer, sponsor an animal, adopt an animal or simply donate.

(NK) I do love dogs, I mean really love dogs. 320 dogs, however, was a new experience. We walked away with sadness for the friends we’d be leaving (animal and human) but will no doubt return and hope to continue to help in anyway we can when we’re back in the UK.

The beautiful Lake Atitlan

We were slightly excited about some well-deserved R&R at the famous Lake Atitlan. Deciding to forgo the hedonistic village of San Pedro we made for San Marco. Our host Darvy had responded: “Why do you want to go there, it’s full of hippies!” Well, we had some unfinished business with travel hippies and wanted to find out if we could learn to love them. Darvy, kindly drew some directions that showed the good roads that were safe and the one bad road where we’d probably get robbed.

After an eventful drive in which an oncoming/overtaking lorry ran Trisha off the road we wound our way down to the beautiful Lake Atitlan. High up in the mountains it is surrounded by three volcanoes, which create a tranquil but dramatic vista.

All the rooms in San Marco were full so in the end we did have to drive around to San Pedro for one night. On the way back to San Marcos we picked up some hitchhiking hippies to notch up our karma and try to understand these dreadlocked nomads. They didn’t say much.

We decided to splash out a little and stayed at the lovely AaculaaxHotel. The English girls we keep bumping into, Anna and Harry, just happened to be in San Marcos too. It was lots of fun to see them both again and swap tales. The next few days were spent relaxing, eating healthy food and drinking Kombucha. Unfortunately we didn’t take many photos as we were knackered.

Anna and Harry had been to a rainbow gathering in Palenque for the end of the Mayan calendar. A rainbow gathering from what we hear, involves bongos, chanting, vegetarian food, halucinogenics, nakedness, disgusting shit pits, and lots and lots of love. This is how they will one day save the planet.

San Marcos indeed had a bush on every corner as the hippies shed the constraints of human clothes and pranced around the way mother nature had intended. We must say that despite keeping our clothes on, we found the happy vibe of the place just the medicine we needed.

It all culminated in a Hippie Fest party with comedy, music, chanting, trancing and fire shows. We got involved, a bit. Hippies - they’re not that bad.

Upon leaving Harry gave me a hug with a little cheeky look on her face. She then smugly passed on a bracelet that said: “Hug it forward.” The burden was now mine.

We peeled ourselves away from the tranquil environment of San Marcos and set a course for Honduras. The murder capital of the world… surprisingly.

GUAT'S UP?

GUATEMALA! Are you ready to rock?

(NK) We crossed the border into Guatemala and back into Latin Central America. Back to Spanish, pointless paperwork and questionable fees for everything. As we crossed the bridge we were stopped by a uniformed woman who wanted 40 Q for what, we weren’t exactly sure. We had been warned in Belize this might happen. After for a good 5 mins of arguing we decided that she could have the 40 Quetzales, or £3. Sometimes it’s not worth debating on the roadside over a few quid.

We drove on to El Remate, a village close to Tikal national park, which turned out to be full of hippies. Not the peace and love hippies of the 60s and 70s but an altogether more irritating breed of hippy that we’ve encountered more than once. Fortunately there was no cash machine in the town and we were out, so we headed to nearby Flores and liked it so much we decided to stay.

Flores

The view across lake Peten

An island on Lake Peten, Flores is joined to Santa Elena by a small causeway and has a very European feel. As we winded our way around the cobbled streets we saw some travel friends from Mexico, that we’d also bumped into in Belize and got straight onto one of the piers for some cold beer.

Harry's Lilo makes her an easy spot in Central America

We're still not sick of sunsets

We had a relaxing couple of days, swimming in the lake and getting our bearings but left for Tikal before getting too comfortable. It was the last Mayan ruin on our list and we had high hopes. Well known for being the grand daddy of all Mayan ruins it is still largely undiscovered and makes an appearance in Star Wars IV.

Driving into the park felt like taking a jaunt into Jurassic Park. Thick jungle surrounded us and the road warning signs certainly weren’t for deer.

Watch out for Jaguars!

And massive snakes!

We arrived at 3pm as it means your ticket is valid for the next day, allowing you to witness sunrise and sunset at the park. Luckily the campgrounds had some concrete floor palapas as the ground was rather moist.  Tikal it turns out is huge!

Campsite at Tikal

The jungle trees were very Avatar

Spread over an area of 16 sq km (mapped) 575 sq km (unmapped) it was home to an estimated 200,000 people. The race was on to make it to temple IV before the sun started to sink. After a sweaty trek through the jungle paths we were rewarded with a staggering view above the tree canopy and a huge double rainbow.

(FK) – We’d packed all the essentials in our bag – bug spray, umbrella, water, guide book, but forgot one of the most important items for the night time trek back to the tent – head torches. So, we found ourselves in the middle of the jungle, not really sure which way was the way out with crazy massive pyramids surrounding us. Hand in hand we managed to find our way to the campsite only to be greeted by 50 plus screaming scouts/girl guides who had clearly had too much sugar and were hyped about camping (who could blame them really).

We got tucked up in bed with our ear plugs to get up for our early rise and shine at 5.30am to see the sunrise over to Tikal. I am not a morning person but was pretty excited to see some wildlife on our way to Temple V. As we walked into the Park again, the scariest sounds were coming from the jungle, Jurassic Park eat your heart out. I thought one of the hotels was playing a mood setting soundtrack at first. It was actually the sound of Howler Monkeys.

We reached the temple in good time only to find the wooden ladder to climb it had been cut off at the bottom. Obviously the vertigo inducing climb had been deemed unsafe.

Let's give it a miss?

Oh well, never mind I thought. Neil’s response was to start scrambling his way up like a monkey. Urm, I’ll watch and you take the camera to show me what the view looks like! This is the view and this is how high it was.

Misty jungle morning

If I jump will you catch me Fi?

(NK) Sometimes I do love the lack of health and safety in Central America. Fairplay, they’d chopped the bottom of the ladder off as precaution, but there was no one to stop me playing Indiana Jones.

(FK) Pretty awesome ruins and beautiful setting, but that’s us done with those for a while. It’s driving me round the bend, thinking about how they managed to build them with such mathematical and astronomical precision.

The ruins at Tikal were spectacular

The journey to our next destination – Semuc Champey - took us through some jaw dropping scenery and along a road that reminded me of the death roads you see on channel 5. More than once I shrieked as my side went a little too close to the edge.

Death road truckers!

But the views were incredible

Semuc had been recommended to us by lots of people, some saying it was their highlight in Guatemala. I hate having high expectations and being let down and the terrible road conditions had me worried that we were on some kind of wild goose chase.

When we arrived we were not disappointed, the place we stayed at was aptly named Utopia. And a Utopia it was. A beautiful wooden lodge, run by lovely people, set on a hillside overlooking a crystal clear river.

Utopia Lodge

We took a walk to the natural wonder that is Semuc Champey but encountered a bridge that locals enjoy jumping off. Still in lunatic mode, Niles dropped his bag and threw himself off the 40 ft drop. I decided to film and stay dry.

After all that adrenaline we continued to Semuc Champey and climbed the Mirador, a point which overlooks the natural limestone pools. I nearly had a heart attack on the steep climb but the view from the top… spectacular!

Worth the climb 

The rest of the day was spent splashing around, jumping into the pools and enjoying the sunshine. It really is a beautiful place and I would say a must see if you’re in Guatemala.

(NK) The next day we had more exploring to do at Baktun caves. We’d heard warnings about this place and some people had even said it was…. DANGEROUS!

OOOOH, EEEEER, AAAAAH. Let’s Go!

Health and safety in England would dictate that such a tour as this would involve dry suits, elbow and knee pads, helmets, torches, Buoyancy devices etc etc.

We turned up in our swimming gear and were given a candle at the entrance.

As we waded through the cave system there were plenty of points when we had to swim one handed holding our candle in the air as our ‘guide’ shimmied over rocks and up underground waterfalls.

Caving, Guatemalan style

Half way in, our guide looked at our bedraggled group and decided it was time to turn back. We reached daylight with and inch of candle left, although some had burned out. It was a real adventure and the caves had a very peaceful feeling. I’ve always thought of myself as the cave dwelling type.

Back at the river, some divvy had built a massive swing that arched off the bank and over the water. The idea being to slip of the swing at the end of the arch and fall gracefully into the water.

It just needed some divvy to go first. That divvy was me. Full of bravado from my earlier jump off the bridge, this rope swing looked like a piece of piss.

I jumped on without even thinking and as it swooped down and out of the river I suddenly became aware that I’d not really thought this one through. As it reached the end of the arch above the river the guide shouted jump. My bottom half jumped but my arms remained attached to the swing as I clearly had issues about letting go, this left me on a horizontal angle to the river. At 20 ft high, this is a world of shit.

As I hurtled towards the river my mind went blank and I slapped into the water like a pissed off humpback whale.  I surfaced to find a riverbank of concerned onlookers. The queue for the swing quickly dissipated. Luckily for me, Fi didn’t get that one on camera, no doubt you’ve been framed would’ve paid handsomely for such footage.

(FK) So after all of Neil  Kirwan’s escapades and heroics, he caught a bug and ended up in bed hallucinating and thought he was a stand up comic. In between playing nurse nightingale, I decided to do a chocolate tour with Pam and John at Utopia, it was suspiring how much I learnt, here’s a few little facts:

1.     Typical chocolate bars at home contain less than 1% cocoa.

2.     The factory process extracts the cocoa oil which is replaced by vegetable fats in milk chocolate and this oil is used to make white chocolate (to make more money from the crop).

3.     It grows in pods on tree trunks like something out of Avatar and the colour is dependent on what creature has pollinated it.

4.     The husk of the cocoa nib can be used to make tea, which has more antioxidants in it than green tea.

A pod

Fi's Chocolate Factory

The best bit was making the chocolates, after adding a cup of ground sugar to a pound of nibs we heated and blended it three times to make a rich and slightly bitter dark chocolate gooiness. Green and Blacks eat your heart out. Guess what everyone will be getting next Christmas?!

The finished product

With Neil fully recovered and no longer babbling nonsense, we headed to Copan with our new friends, Yanni and Michelle. Yanni is Colombian, so he came to the garage with us and helped us translate a service and oil change for Trisha.

After a fond farewell we jumped back on the highway and motored towards Antigua. Our trip was about to go to the dogs.