Ancient Maya

18th to the 21st of May
Palenque is a small little town on the boundary of the Mexican highlands and the Gulf coast plains. In its tropical setting it has developed thanks to the popular Mayan ruins located just out of town but it remains a pretty small hub.
It was a sweltering hot and humid day when we arrived having boarded at 7:30am in the cool highlands and we were caught a little off guard at midday in our heavy clothes. As our reserved hostel was said to be only 500m away we thought we'd manage but unfortunately the only thing we managed was to lose ourselves in the fairly simple street layout and ended up walking about 2km! After that, we didn't do too much other than readjust to the warmer climate and laze about for the rest of the afternoon.
The Mayan site of Palenque is one of the best examples of Mayan architecture in Mexico. As with much of the Mayan archeology only a small portion of the total site has been excavated. Apparently Palenque stretches beyond the manicured lawns of the touristic site some 15 square kilometers into the surrounding jungle. We got there a little late having had to organise our following day trip before allowing ourselves the freedom to explore. This meant that by 10am it was already pretty warm and coach loads of tourists were disembarking from their AC atmosphere as we arrived. The ruins are truly beautiful with the grey limestone temples and pyramids forming an angular contrast against the dense green tangle of the jungle beyond (we would later discover that the ruins, which there are typically set in multiples of four at the cardinal points around a central plaza were once stuccoed and painted as follows: north - white; east - red; south - yellow; and west - black). We explored most of the site before finally settling under the shade of a huge tree next to our own Mayan temple a little out of the way and away from the continuous stream of human ants. There we lounged around for a while just enjoying our surroundings and Jane even managed a quick siesta while I wondered off taking photos.
That night we enjoyed a fantastic dinner of garlic prawns (from the caribbean side) at our newfound favourite restaurant before hitting the hay.
The following morning we boarded our bus at 6:00am for a bus/boat/bus ride across the boarder into Guatemala and towards the even more reputed ruins of Tikal.
Although long, the journey was pretty easy. The boat trip was an interesting break between buses and although the engine conked out half way up the river and it looked like we might drift into jagged rocks along the bank, the thirteen year old looking captain managed to get it started again in the nick of time.
We arrived in Flores a small island town joined to the Guatemalan mainland town of St Elena by a single road. Flores was one of the last prosperous Mayan cities but was completely flattened out of spite when the Spaniards, after many failed attempts, finally conquered the town. Now it was another one of the pretty little towns that flourish due to tourism with a colourful array of simple buildings. Our hostel - Los Amigos - was a nice place with an indoor/outdoor vibe and many jungle trees growing within the courtyard between hammocks and table settings.
We met a few nice people but didn't hang out too late as we had ANOTHER early morning planned (wasn't this meant to be a holiday???!!!)
We set off at 4:30am for the one hour journey to the Mayan ruins of Tikal. Following the usual organizational delays we were joined by our guide and eventually headed off along a jungle path towards the first temples of Tikal sometime after 6:30am. We realised we had missed out on a lot by not having a guide at Palenque and it would a welcome addition to have some sound information.
Tikal (supposedly pronounced Tik'Al as in to simulate the sound of an echo) once stretched some 120 square kilometers into the surrounding jungle although only 7% of it has now been excavated. The first inhabitants settled here some 700 years BC and it became one of the grandest trading cities in the Mayan Empire. We learnt that at the time, the jungle was completely cleared to allow for over 100 000 people to live here with agriculture requiring further clearing beyond the city. It is thought that perhaps the exhausting of the natural resources may have played a part in the mysterious disappearance of the Mayan lowland civilization around 900 AD, or so our guide suggested at least...
The day we visited the ruins of Tikal was a special as it was Janes' birthday so after our return to Flores, Jane took a yoga class before we settled into a few mojitos. We were joined by a few fellow travelers we had met along the way but couldn't last long after such an early start and were in bed in shamefully good time.

Mexican Highlands

16th to the 18th of May
The temperature was much cooler in the highlands of Mexico as we unloaded our bags from the overnight bus to San Cristobal de Casas. It had taken some eight hours to get here and after a poor night sleep we now had to find the hostel we had booked into. Booking hostels is not something what the average traveler used to have to do. You used to just rock up and take your chances. These days however with the "wonders" of the Internet, everyone prebooks and unless you are part of the action you'll be left behind. We found this out fairly early on our trip as the best hostels were always booked when we knocked on the door.
Back at San Cristobal it took us a little while to navigate the maze of cobblestone streets to find our way to the Posada del Abuelito but when we arrived it was a nice little hostel with a little inner court and friendly people.
San Cristibal looked like a really nice town with a Spanish architectural influence and a living indigenous population. Every house seemed to be painted a different colour giving the cobblestone streets their now typical latino flair. Most local men wore jeans, cowboy boots, hats and big buckles while many of the women still wore a traditional attire of colourful flowered dresses (or felty furry looking things) with a colourful shawl or vest and their black braided hair tied at the back, supposedly to stop it swinging around and getting in their way.
There were numerous plazas and markets, a number of large churches and cathedrals scattered about the town as well ad countless good restaurants to sample.
On the second day in the highlands we decided to take a boat ride through a canyon. Now entering the lusher parts of Mexico we were entering an area where at every turn there is a new water wonder to enjoy. On our first day in San Cristibal, we had been told that you could take a bus ride for an hour then jump on a boat that would drive you up through a stunning Canyon, and with a little luck you might even see a crocodile. Why not?
The trip didn't disappoint with up to 1000m (!!! if my spanish translation is correct) towering vertical cliffs plunging into the dark green waters of the river below. We even saw two crocs including one rather sizable reptile.
After a second cool night in SC we decided to move on and caught the early bus up to our next destination - Palenque.

Heading down the coast

10th to the 15th of May
After a quiet night in Puerto we decided it was time to head down the coast. We had heard of a nice Pueblo whilst in Chacahua from some fellow travelers called Mazunte about an hour or so south and as the swell had dwindled for a while we decided to head there.
Mazunte, we were told was a hub of yogis in a beautiful bay surrounded by lush mountains. It sounded pretty good and after I had had so much surfing it would be nice for Jane to fuel her passion for a while.
We caught a small cramped local bus to the small crossroad of San Antonio and after a cheap cab transfer we finally rocked up to a double bay with small cove beaches between rocky outcrops. We actually ended up in the neighbouring town of San Antonillo but it was only a short walk up to Mazunte should we want to head there. In the end we didn't need to. Jane found a yoga practice just up the road and did a couple classes up there where I joined her on the second day but we didn't end up hanging around too long. Prices were high and after the second day we decided to move along.
Next stop was Barra de la Cruz. This beach was made famous when a 2006 surfing world tour championship event stopped here and broadcast this idyllic spot to the rest of the world. As such it had experienced a boom in tourism since the event but it was still much smaller than we had expected. We found a cheap grubby room behind a little shop but had to walk about 15 minutes down a dirt track to the actual beach - a tough task in the heat of the day. The beach however was beautiful with a sandy righthand pointbreak wave breaking along granite cliffs. The waves were pretty busy as a result of all the hype generated by the competition six years ago but the people were mostly friendly. There was a nice little restaurant on the beach that served simple tasty food and drinks and provided some shade so that days could be spent lounging between surfs.
After a second day though and many great waves we decided to head off as we had a lot of ground still to cover.
As we were preparing to leave a Mexican couple offered to drive us to our next destination called la Bamba. Bamba was approximately one and a half hours away, half way between Barra and Salina Cruz which is the end of the favorable stretch of surfing coastline. Rumours were that it was a great uncrowned wave far enough away from the developing surf camp area of Salina Cruz and that there were a few cabanas where you could stay the night. After a cosy journey with four of us squeezed into the front of an old pickup truck we eventually pulled out onto a windswept sandy stretch of coast with a couple breakwaters providing protected waters for the absent local fishermen to launch their boats. With the wind, conditions were far from perfect but still, at the end of each breakwater waves rose and unfurled in perfect form blasted by the sideshore wind. So long as the wind would die down at some point, I would get some quality waves. We found a lonely set of cabanas along the gravel road with clean rooms and a friendly owner called Leo. Leo was Mexican with a French wife and two children. He had set up the camp a couple years ago and was doing a good job of providing a cheap alternative to the numerous overpriced surf camps further south. Although the shops were shut he was able to cook us up a tasty meal of chicken and pasta which we enjoyed along with his stories of how beautiful this place was in the wet season. All along the coast so far we had noticed that the hills were covered in what appeared to be dead trees. We though initially that perhaps a fire had been through or perhaps a storm had ripped all the leaves off. As it turns out this is the usual state of the bush at the end of the dry season. Six months without rain had turned the landscape into an unwelcoming terrain. But apparently, in just one month time, the rains would come, the lakes would fill, the vegetation would blossom and the hills would turn bright green again. It sounded magical and we would have loved to hang around for it but as it was, we had many more kilometers to cover and we had no doubt that green hills awaited us further south.
The next morning, I woke at dark and made my way back to the beach. The wind had died overnight and as I rounded the last corner glassy perfect waves greeted me without a soul in sight. This is the essence of every surfers dream although in fairness a buddy wouldn't go a miss. Facing challenging waves that you have never before surfed alone is a little daunting.
I managed to snag an hour of great waves to myself though growing more confident after each ride until eventually the first flashy surf camp 4x4 turned up. By then the first breaths of wind announcing the presence of a storm in the Gulf of Tehuantepec were starting to show and after a couple more waves I left it to the newcomers.
Leo had mentioned the previous night that he needed to go to Salina Cruz the following day for supplies so when he offered us a ride we gladly accepted. We loaded up his camp VW campervan and by 10.30am we were in the road again.
Salina Cruz was a working town with ships lining up off the coast to load or unload their cargoes. It was basic t not as bad as I had allowed myself to believe from rumours. The attendant at the bus station told us we would have to wait until midnight until we could board the bus to our next destination so it seemed we had some time to kill.

Paradised Found

6th to the 10th of May
Yes we found it...or at least we were told where it was...and no we won't tell you where it is...OK then buy me a beer an we'll see...OK OK it's called Chacahua but don't tell anyone!
We left Puerto Escondido on Sunday at around midday. We had been told two things in PE. One that there was a great reggae party happening in town on Sunday night; two, that there were an awful lot of Australians looking to head to Chacahua on Monday. So we decided to miss out on the party (sure there'll be others) and try to beat the crowds for a surf or two. We called down a taxi, threw our boards on the roof and our reduced bags (having managed to find somewhere to leave the rest of our stuff with new friends in PE) in the trunk and off we went. An hour and a half later we arrived at a small town on the banks of a large inlet. There we haggled our way onto a speedboat and were soon speeding our way across the water. We started out on open water and passed a few fishermen hauling their nets. Soon we were headed straight for a bank of mangroves when at the last moment an opening appeared and we passed between the trees at full throttle. There were all sorts of birds along the inlet including frigate birds, vultures and white herons. As we rushed through the mangroves the herons that were feeding on the banks were interrupted and beat their wings furiously as they set to flight a couple feet ahead of the boat until finally an opening in the bush above allowed them to escape.
We eventually re-emerged from the
mangroves before pulling up on the palm lined shore of the river mouth. Already the deep blue walls and crisp white spray along the horizon announced the presence of nearby surf.
Our skipper asked if we already had cabanas to which we replied no and we were soon chasing him through a small maze of timber and concrete huts until he eventually pointed us to Las Cabanas De Piojo. The cabanas were basic and clean but most important was the view. Out front stretched a beautiful golden beach maybe thirty meters wide, running around a bay as far as the eye could see towards peaks turned purple in the sunny afternoon haze. Beyond the beach the blue pacific ocean where wave after wave endlessly peeled from one side to the other. The waves ran from the edge of a large breakwater to the north along a shallow sand bank to beyond our cabanas some 250 or more meters further south along the beach. I was soon scrambling into my boardshorts as fast as i could and paddling for the horizon to join the small handful of surfers already out. Over the next couple of hours I had one of those surfs you just want to package up in your brain and relive time and time again. I dragged myself out of the water just as the sun was burning red above the horizon and with the news of a new swell arriving the next day things were pretty damn close to perfect.
Over the next five days life fell into a pretty magical routine. Wake up early head out for the best surf of my life, drag myself out of the water for food and water, then a siesta in the hammock before heading back out in the late afternoon after the heat had passed for the next best surf of my life. Pretty tough really.
Jane didn't seem too fussed either. She was pretty happy to just sit back, soak up the sun, swing in her hammock, swim, eat, read and do it all over again as many times as she required throughout the day. She would regularly run through a yoga routine in the morning and I tried to persuade her to do a class for donations so that we could supplement our dwindling funds but in the end she didn't get around to it.
By the fourth night my greed for waves had been appeased sufficiently and along with the now dying swell and our lack of funds we decided that the time was right to leave.
Chacahua had been one of the most perfect places I had ever been to and I only could hope that it would remain that way in the years to come. Like out of a dream I had to continually pinch myself to acknowledge that it was actually happening.
We took a slightly longer and cheaper way back Puerto Escondido the next day sharing the collectivos with the locals (an their chickens). We were back in good time and booked into a nice hostel with a swimming pool and hammocks (all for under $20!) to try to endure the calm and peace that had overcome us.

Puerto Escondido

4th to 6th of May
The heat hit like a wall as we disembarked at the little airport of Puerto Escondido. Since the beginning of our trip we had been seeking out warmer weather as it had become evident that our choice of South American destinations were for the most part on the cool end of the scale. Now in Puerto, the heat certainly had delivered and we would have to acclimatise pretty bloody quickly if we were going to get any sleep in the days ahead. Puerto is a pretty cool little town with a strip of smart restaurants and surf shops along the beachside strip at Zicatela. Further north, on the hillside lies the town centro and to the south, at the end of the beach lies a more sleepy neighbourhood next to the surf spot "La Puenta". This is where we stayed for our first night although we moved the next day to Zicatela to be a bit closer to the action.
We had the pleasure of being joined at this stage by Freo boy, and friend of Janes', Benn Newby. Benn had ended up on the same flight as us from Mexico City and we were glad to have his company.
We, or rather I, spent a lot of the next few days looking for a surfboard to buy. I had managed so far with rentals but now we would be traveling over land...for a while at least. I came across a shaper by the name of "Ody" who made some very cool boards out of epoxy and seriously considered getting one shaped, but as I inspected our coming airline policies I had to give up. Luckily though on our second day in Puerto I came across a fun looking stumpy board with four fins and a bat tail. The price was right and I would soon have to learn to ride something a little different - sounds fun!
Jane fit in a couple yoga lessons and tasty smoothies and by the third day we were ready to head to a beach a couple hours up the road. Both Benn and ourselves had been told rumours by our mutual friend Morgan about a great wave and we were keen to check it out!

Mexico City

2nd to 4th of May
We had already booked our hostel in Mexico City and read the news of taxi companies ripping people off on arrival to Mexico City, yet as it was late and we only had mostly nasty rumours of the 20 million odd people city, so we didn't have too much of an option. We forked out for an expensive cab which in fairness did drop us off right at the door and avoided the usual sweaty trek lugging our luggage across town.
Mexico was straight away apparently much more westernized than most of South America had been with numerous malls, recognisable fast food joints and an endless supply of police cars at every street corner.
We had only given ourselves a day in the capital and as we started to explore the following morning, it became apparent that it would require a lot longer to see all the sights of this vibrant city. For the most part the neighbourhoods that we visited seemed safe. We concentrated out visit on the Anthropological Museum which had an incredibly vast collection of artifacts from all Central American indigenous tribes including the Mayans and the Mexicas (Aztecas). I must make note here of the incredible building that holds the museum contents and the incredible cantilevered roof structure (see photo).
We then headed on to the Museum of Modern art and saw an interesting array of colourful if not confusing art. We were by now getting slightly museumed out so we spent the final hours of daylight hunting down a shop where we could use a Mac to backup our photos. Somewhere along the road both our hard drive and our memory card had picked up a virus and were no longer working on PCs. Thank god for Macs which are not susceptible to such things. However after a fair hunt we had only limited success before we joined the 4 million people who use public transport in Mexico City every day and crammed onto the Metro to return to our hostel.
That night was mostly uneventful apart from meeting a few tequila loving frenchies who pushed us to drink probably more than we should have before heading off at 6am for our flight to Puerto Escondido.

The Peru Surf Coast

27th of April to 2nd of May
One of the things that I have come to realize about many of the cities in South America is that their reputation precedes them. Wherever you source your articles (lonely planet, Internet forums, onboard flight magazines) it is almost impossible to avoid stories of pickpocketing, snatching, thieving or worse - armed hold ups. As such we arrive in these new places with fiercely suspicious attitudes avoiding any possible contact with locals until our belongings are safely locked up somewhere safe at our new found accommodation. It's probably a good thing I suppose but it really distorts the experience. Most often, if you stick around in one of these places long enough to let your guard down, it becomes an enjoyable relaxed experience which makes holding out worthwhile.
Lima was one of these places and had one of the worst reputations of all the cities we had been so far. Yet we still pushed on towards the cheaper buses outside the airport rather than take the easily available safe taxis lined up at the terminal. This is a trait that has become a little too common on our venture and I must say that for the sake of saving of a couple dollars, I'm not always sure it's worth the hassle. In any case, we did it and soon found ourselves crammed into a mini bus with the locals swerving through the Lima traffic. We headed out to Miraflores which is one of the nicer beach suburbs of Lima. We didn't have much of a game plan other than to organize bus tickets up to a small town called Pacasmayo approximately 10 hours north an then kill time for the rest of the day until departure later that evening. Miraflores was pretty funky and colourful and once organized, the hours quickly slipped away as we enjoyed a couple beers in the sun with some local fish ceviche. Later that night we taxied out to the bus terminal and after the usual kerfufle we eventually boarded the bus and left a little later than planned.
When we woke up in our reclined leather seats the next morning and peering out of the safety of our comfortable bus the landscape was truly something to behold. I had taken us to Mars! Or at least to the end of the world it would seem... Towering rocky mountains sprouted out of their flat sandy surrounding as we ventured further on across the deserted landscape. Every now and then a small township would pop up revealing a small conglomeration of unusually high mud brick walls, colourful billboards, a tangle of tv antennas and handfull of dusty locals before we were once more out in the open. Later that morning, we would pull up in a similar township which we were told was our destination.
Our hostel was better than the image I had portrayed in my imagination... but I had in all honesty kept my expectations pretty low in anticipation.
An iron gate along a sandy street lined with the now familiar high walls capped with barb wire surrounded a small overgrown garden and a run of basic rooms.
The waves were just out of town at the point known as "El Faro". I would every morning jump in a local mototaxi, a converted trike, that would jump and bump its way out over the gravel roads out to the point. The waves were overhead all but the last day at Pacasmayo, when I took the moto a little further to a neighbouring town of Puemape. I can honestly say that over the four days we spent in the desert I surfed the longest waves of my life. We hadn't headed to Chicama, 50kms further south, known as "the" longest wave in the world as the swell hadn't been big enough, but Pacasmayo which is a steeper wave provided plenty of leg aching rides and unfortunately the flipside - painfully long paddles back up the point! Still I would never complain of such a thing, it just meant that a surf would comprise of no more than a handful of lengthy rides beforehand my shoulders turned to jelly.
By the time it came to leave we had familiarised ourselves sufficiently with the small shanty town that it had become somewhat endearing. Still we were now ready to get out and make our way back south to Lima and on to our next destination. The bus ride south was once more a confusion. Our ucomfy seats had been taken by locals and no one was particularly willing to help. We crammed into the uncomfy seats we were given and tried to get some sleep before the madness of Lima in the morning and our transfer to Mexico!

Meanwhile back in Cusco

22nd to 27th of April
Following our trek we took a little more time to enjoy the town of Cusco. We made a decision that we would fly out of town and avoid the 21 hour bus ride (a bit soft I admit - I'm sure the view is great but c'mon!) and that we would likely postpone our departure out of Peru so that I could sample a few of the world renowned waves up the coast. This gave us four days of relaxation in Cusco and as it turned out I needed it. The bug that Jane had caught on the mountain seemed to be sweeping through the town by the time we got back and everyone was sneezing and spluttering their snot wherever you looked. Unfortunately I had also fallen victim so it was pretty nice to do very little an lie in bed for a couple days. Jane would guiltily smile as I knew she enjoyed the fact that my constant drive to explore had been subdued.
So after a few very quiet days and eventually a little more sightseeing Friday morning came and it was time to finally leave Cusco. It had been fun.