Who Needs Brakes Anyway?!

From the lake we had to hoof it a bit, sadly missing out on a whole list of amazing things to do in the Guatemalan mountains but as the largest of countries we had currently driven through and being predominantly mountains we were always going to have to make sacrifices. So we drove on out of the lake one afternoon a few hours west towards the second largest city of Quetzaltenango, or much more simply know as the old Maya name ‘Xela’. We pulled into the smaller town of Salcaja next door in the early evening, a picturesque place with strong local identity and a love for handmade fabrics. It was a bustling place compared to where we had recently been and the local peoples yet again very different. After parking up at a public carpark on the town river we walked into the central plaza for some grub and a chance to eyeball the streets and churches as the day came to an end. We were warmly welcomed by all, took some street food and wandered the evening market, eventually settling down to a busy stand of ladies flogging hot drinks and small snacks. We settled in on their benches as the others were, drank hot rice cocoa and watched the world go by. It was such a great spot that later that evening I returned, much to their surprise and enjoyment, chatted with other bench warmers wrapped in blankets and finally called it a night. A wild Friday night out in town!

We woke the next day and hadn’t been robbed or bothered in the night which was great! We were well on show in town and had small concerns we may attract a little more attention than we wanted. But up and at it in the morning, coffee and breakfast in a café, we stuck our heads into a few of the amazing fabric stores (to discover it was roughly £300 per piece for some local garms!) and made some good purchases and conversation in the market. Next stop was in the mountains about half an hour from town to a Maya shrine and natural hot springs. On the drive out there we had a close call when the car in front didn’t see the speed bump, broke late but had no brake lights so I saw it late, slammed the brakes and power slid to a perfect stop an inch behind. A bit too close! The front of our bed was pulled off by the sliding draws that refused to stop and we were left with a brake warning light that was to lead to further issues, but for now we gave a visual check and carried on.

The hot springs were fantastic and the perfect way to spend the day. Nestled in the forest with views down the valley, the hot spring was fed into two small pools at roughly 35’c and 40’c. With the trees around us, a waterfall and small trails we spent the day there almost to ourselves and soaked in the hot water that was very welcome in the cool mountain air. Later that afternoon we ended up in Xela, a sizable town with Mayan history and colonial roots to have an entertaining but quiet night out. Beers on the main plaza, pupusa in the park, met some late night strays but generally failed

to find a Thursday night party so slept in the van on the street across the road from the police station. Classy! Next morning, after contacting our mechanic Axel, he set us up to see an associated mechanic in town to check our brake situation. After an hour of poking around they discovered the sensor had rusted itself into disrepair and without the possibility of finding parts they sent us on our way, assured we were OK. We had an exit plan to Mexico but it meant going up and over the final mountain range before dropping down from over 2000m towards the border. Fingers and toes were crossed that our brakes were in fact OK, we had a couple of days to get there as no one wants you at a border at the weekend so no rush, which was to prove useful. Up and out of town we went, climbing the last hill, so far so good, until we dropped down again a couple of hours later. The downhill was not awful and we had become very accustomed to the use of engine brakes through the Guatemalan mountains, but something was not right. Jelly was driving and for most the way down we were stuck behind a queue of heavy trucks meaning we were slower and braking harder than normal and on a winding road with single lane traffic there was little chance to pass them. We pulled through a small mountain town, the main road yet again leading straight through the middle of the street market (?!%*!) – we heard a metal on metal wail and cringed; our brakes had seized! We squealed through town, all eyes on us, ‘don’t stop, don’t stop, we CANNOT breakdown here!’,

we got through the market but that led straight to a small hill out of town, ‘this is bad, but we can’t stop here!’, we pulled round the corner and slipped off onto a convenient side road, all eyes still on us. I jumped out and checked under the van, brakes almost on fire and a situation on our hands!

I came out from underneath as four policemen on motorbikes pulled in around us. Great we thought, they are here to help as they placed a few traffic cones around us, but that’s where the help stopped. They were there for a hustle, easy pray as we were, stuck there on the road side. They shook us down, questioned us hard, two left but likely just because the other two had called dibs on this hustle. They went through our paperwork (all photocopies so they could hold us ransom), one got into the drivers seat, opened glove boxes and sifted through pockets and baskets, opened our wallets which luckily had no money in (as per usual!) as we were only a day from the border. He climbed into the back, Jelly’s eyes hard on him, opened every drawer and cupboard, looking for anything that could incriminate us. Meanwhile, I have the other officer under control, chewing his ear off in any Spanish I could find, then moved on to the officer in the back on the van. Talk, distract, annoy and don’t give them anything was the tactic. This was not our biggest problem at the time and they finally understood this but also that we were not taking any shit, advised us of a local mechanic and finally left us in a

whirlwind as we looked to each other with a ‘phew - what the hell was that’, never to find anything on us and no bribes needed. Little did they know! They caught us off guard and we really hadn’t expect this from Guatemala but in the end no real dramas.

We were still stuck on the road side and as the police left the local taxi drivers who used this corner as their depot came to check in and make sure we hadn’t been hustled. They were a good bunch and happily helped us out, figuring we had overheated the brakes we hung around for an hour or so to let them cool, sat on the corner in a bus stop we chatted with them and avoided the local crazies who had typically latched on to Jelly. We went to pull away once the brakes had cooled to touch but still something was locked on so backed Franky onto the kerb and back to square one. We jacked the back to find the wheels would barely turn, the taxi boys manually released the rear brakes, but still they seized back on as soon as the pedal was touched. Another guy was called in to try and he managed to get the brakes released again, this time with success! And with a round of cold drinks as thanks, a whirlwind of chaos and a few hours later we left the corner. Unsure how we would go as there was still a large downhill to the next real town, I drove with great caution and pulled into San Marcos late afternoon to find a central gated carpark we were able to crash at for the night. Byron was in charge of the place and he was great, spoke perfect English and his brother happened to run a large garage round the corner. For now we sat down and unwound the days events, fortunate for the help of so many good locals yet again and managed to order a pizza to the carpark, which, considering it was a carpark, had toilets, hot showers, a gym, mountain views and locked gates. It was not a bad place to break down and with plans to speak with the brother first thing we slept and prayed for good fortune.