Break on Through

Trying to cross the Guatemalan border the right way, by stopping and explaining the situation would just draw more attention to me. So as I approached the Mexican Frontier I knew I couldn’t stop. No explanations or excuses, just driving as fast as possible through the Guatemalan side of the border. I had planned on crossing at a border I had been through before, so I would know what to expect. But I got lost on a small dirt road for hours and crashed several times, so once I found civilization I followed the signs heading straight for the border.

Since I have never been to this crossing I don’t know what to expect. My brain is filled with explosions directing me which way to go, I am making life-changing decisions at 40 mph. Drive too slow the Guards may have time to react, to fast I may have an accident, get caught and well I don’t know what would have happened.

The familiar sight of 18-wheelers lining both sides of the road sent a shot of adrenaline racing through my body. This meant the border was right around the corner. At the first checkpoint the road split into 3 lanes for traffic leaving the country, there were chains in place to stop cars, but they were lying on the ground, and when I approached there were no other cars trying to cross. Guards with shotguns strapped to their backs waved at me to stop, I slowed down feinting I was going to follow the rules, then blazed right past them.

I thought that would be it, and sunny Mexico would be next waiting with open arms. But I could see 2 more checkpoints up ahead that I would need to pass through before I was out of Guatemala. The road split leaving a large median in the middle, and since I could see that the chains were up at the next checkpoint, I stayed left turning into oncoming traffic. Again large trucks lined both sides of the road leaving no room on the shoulder. Hoping for no cars coming my way I continued down the road. I can see the guards at the other checkpoints waving at me, and now all the truck drivers waiting their turn to cross are waving too. After a few nerve-racking minutes it was all over, I had made it to Mexico.

I already have the permit for the motorcycle, so I will just need a stamp in my passport from Mexico and I can be on my way. But here I am told that this crossing is only for truckers, tourists need to go to another crossing. They tell me I will have to go back to Guatemala, and south a little bit to the next crossing. I happen to know there are some very pissed off Guatemalans at the border I just came through, even if I hadn’t blown past the guards they still wouldn’t have let me in. I explain that me going back to Guatemala is impossible, they won’t let me back in. The guard seems to have some sympathy for me, and says, “Okay if you can go into that building and get them to stamp your passport I’ll let you go.” In the office the guy behind the desk gives me the same story, and tells me to go back. Smiling I walk out of the office stuffing my passport into the tank bag on the bike, “Yeah they stamped it no problems.” I tell the waiting guard. He is busy inspecting the permit on the windshield, and tells the suit standing behind him it’s good. The suit just shakes his head, and guard says I will have to go back.

Climbing on the motorcycle I apologize for what I am about to do. “Amigos going back to Guatemala is not possible for me. I hope you will not be angry, but I’m driving into Mexico.” A few seconds after thumbing the starter, I can see the Mexican border disappearing at 90mph in the mirror. I feel like I’m flying a cruise missile, trying to put as much distance between the border and I. Hoping the Mexican police won’t be waiting for me around the next corner.

--Ryan