Look Ma. No Brakes!

Entering Guatemala was surprisingly easy thanks to a 7 year old boy. After getting our motorcycles sprayed at pest control and having our passports stamped, we were directed by immigration to the customs building for our driving permits. It is at this time a helpful young Guatemalan speaking very little English informed us that we needed copies of our passport, title, and drivers’ license. I was hesitant at first because our place in line was well established and no actual official had indicated that we needed such copies; but Ryan to see if this boy’s claims were true followed our new friend out of the customs building and into the crowded street disappearing from site. Ryan returned moments later when I was approaching the front of the line, its at this point that I noticed a small piece of paper no larger than a post card listing the required documents, the boy was right. Switching places with Ryan now I am being led out of the nicely cooled building and into the hot street to receive my necessary copies; thanks to the lack of information by yet another government agency, if it were not for this young boy looking out for ill informed tourists we could have been stuck at the border for an extra hour or more.

After tipping our new found friend we hopped on our motorcycles and were off to Tikal. The first 23 miles of road into Guatemala from Belize is rough dirt and gravel containing ruts, large potholes, and rocks the size of coconuts, no wait that was a coconut. After dodging the seemingly endless barrage of hazards this country calls a road we reached pavement but I soon came to the alarming realization that this paved section of road is much much worse. There are long evenly spaced gouges in the road; it looks as if a drunken grader operator was sporadically dropping the front teeth just for fun. The potholes are replaced with pot-lakes Ryan is in the lead and at one point he all but disappears when he is unable to steer clear of one. “Thank goodness for the Body Glove snorkel or he may have drowned.”

We reach the turn off to Tikal and pull over to check my rear brake; after installing the new sprocket and chain earlier that day there was some noticeable rubbing from one of the brake pads. It has apparently gotten worse because the caliper is now too hot even touch I purchase three waters from the nearest store one for Ryan, one for me, and one for the brakes. Upon removing the caliper and separating the badly worn brake pads we reinstall the caliper and were off. Only Twenty more miles to Tikal I make it a point to not use the rear brakes but when we reach the parking lot the brake is fully compressed and now there is no brake pad left. We decide to wait until our tour of Tikal is over before trying to fix the bike giving it time to cool.

Removing the brake was easy deciding what to do was a bit more difficult. Every person we asked said the nearest mechanic was in Flores located 40 miles away. With some debate and 6 zip ties the rear caliper is now securely attached to my swing arm. I never saw the need for a rear brake in the first place they are highly over rated. We reach Flores and find a hotel but it’s to late in the evening to find a mechanic, maybe tomorrow.

--Mitch