I made good progress and arrived at the Bladen Branch River for lunch when the road changed to a gravel base. Vehicles raced by and sent rocks flying hitting me and the bike. The rain started and at Medina, I arrived at a dirt road complete with puddles, rocks and wash board. The road became hilly as I approached the Maya Mountains. I passed many construction crews building bridges for the new Highway. There was nothing but jungle and I felt like I was in the movie, "Apocalypse Now". As I drove further into the jungle, I saw Mayan Natives living in thatched roofed houses. It was hard to imagine what impact a new Highway would have on them. I set up camp beside the Highway and listened to frogs croaking all night.

         The next day, I carried on down the muddy road and soon reached the cut-off to the Nim Li Puint ruins. I started pushing my bike the half mile to the ruins and I was soon surrounded by Mayan kids trying to sell me hand-crafted baskets. It was a very steep climb to the ruins and about half way, I parked the bike by an abandoned building and walked the rest of the way up with my camera equipment. The site was very interesting with a museum housing large stones with elaborate carvings. There was a group of workers with machetes cutting the grass and trying to keep the jungle from encroaching on the site. I spent about two hours looking around then returned to the muddy road.

         The mud started to collect between the fenders and I had to stop frequently to clear it out. It brought back memories of the horror in Northern Mexico! Buses and trucks roared down the road at horrendous speeds and I had trouble staying on the road. Then the mirror broke off the bike and I developed pains in my side. When I arrived at Big Fall, I stopped for lunch and watched the native women washing their clothes in the river and children swimming. After lunch, the paved Highway restarted and I soon reached Punta Gorda.

         While I was in the store stocking up on food, the cashier suggested I could stay at "Nature's Way", a hostel-type of accommodation. The place looked like it was built with scrap material and resembled a tree fort that kids build. It was run by an American, his black Belzan wife and several of their children. I checked in and settled into the dorm-type environment. Every bed was covered with a net because the place was so poorly constructed that large holes let bugs in. I was able to make my meals in what looked like it might have been a functioning kitchen. However, the hostel was located on the sea so a nice cool breeze blew through the place.

         On July 12, I rested for a day, got my laundry done, found out where the ferry left for Guatemala and located the customs office, always surrounded by natives begging for money. Back at the Hostel, I found there was a group of American Missionaries staying in another building where the owner lived. I was in a separate building on the second floor with a restaurant on the first floor. I made my meals there and wandered around the town a bit before retiring for the night.

         On July 13, I decided to try and clean all the mud off my bike. The owner gave me a bucket and while I was cleaning the bike, a bus arrived with a group University students. The students were booked to take the whole dorm where I was staying but they had arrived two days early. The owner asked if I would mind moving. I dropped everything and rushed up stairs to gather all my stuff which I had spread out everywhere. The owner then showed me to my new accommodation, essentially a storage room with a make-shift bed and no net! He didn't charge me for the use of the room. I finished cleaning the bike and then wandered into town to shoot some video and I tried to find someone to interview for my film but with no luck.

         I returned to the hostel, which was a beehive of activity now with the Missionaries on one side and the University Students on the other side. The University Students were from San Francisco but one, Claudia was from Toronto. She was actually born in Nicaragua but left in her early teens. It turned out that she lived quite close to where I lived in Toronto. She gave me a name of a person in Nicaragua who would be good to interview for my film. That night in my storage room, it was impossible to sleep without a net. I set up my tent in the room and pulled the mattress inside.

         On Sunday, the Missionary group left in their van to do their missionary work. The University students gathered in the dining room to write an exam. The owner had rented a high powered water pump to hose down the buildings and to further annoy the students writing their exams, the Missionaries returned and started practicing their gospel songs. The students were in Belize for over a month studying the ecosystems and cultural groups and had just returned from two weeks in the jungle. Their next assignment was to go to the Keys to study the Barrier Reef. That day, a Geologist from Canada arrived. He worked for a mining company and was checking a site where Belize was planning on building a Hydro Electric Dam.

         I was still determined to find someone to do an interview for my video so I headed out to a local cafe run by a hyper active over-the-hill hippie woman. I stayed to listen to the entertainment and some of the University students arrived. I told Claudia how disappointed I was at not finding anyone to interview and she suggested Collin, one of her teachers who was from Belize. He agreed so, the next morning I set up the camera in the dinning room and completed the interview with Collin Young. I then hurriedly packed and rushed off to catch the 9:00am ferry to Guatemala.

         I arrived, bought the boat ticket and went through customs. I rolled the bike onto the peer but, of course they wanted more money for the bike. I took everything off the bike and, after loading everybody's stuff in the bow cargo hold, they piled my bike on top and tied it down. One by one, our names were called out from the customs list and we filled the small 25 foot boat to capacity. It took about one and half hours to cross the rough waters of the Gulf of Honduras before I set foot in Guatemala on July 15.

Guatemala