There was a crunching metallic noise from the gearbox of the Jeep and JR tried shifting the
transfer box to four wheel drive but we were dead in the water or more accurately, stopped in the
steep and dusty rutted road. The front wheels spun but the rear wheels did not.
This was on a Thursday morning, two days after leaving Antigua and arriving in the country town
of Zacapa that same day. The ‘captain’ had missed the ride, for various reasons and arrived a day
later, which caused us to lose a day of explorations. Traveling in Guatemala is fraught with
disappointments and detours, detractions and delays and I’m not sure if I’ll ever get used to it.
I try and if there’s a bottle of rum(medicinal purposes only)nearby, there is a measure or two of
solace.
The Jeep? It was as perfect as an off-road vehicle as one could hope for. Under the hood was a 4
litre six cylinder engine that passed everything except gas stations, the suspension had been
stiffened and raised and the tires were all-terrain mud specials. JR got under the Wrangler to
take a look at the problem and emerged minutes later, and his dark blue t-shirt was now lightly
dusted with a mocha shade of brown. There was a full tool box of wrenches of all types in the
rear of the vehicle, from which he took one and crawled back under the silent blue beast. I’d
found a large enough boulder to pack behind one of the rear wheels, to prevent our
driver/mechanic from being crushed, as that tends to cast a pall on the day. Meanwhile, Mynor,
aka the ‘captain’ showed me leaves from a nearby bush that were edible. He had ‘hiked’ or
patrolled this area years ago as a ‘Kaibile’ or Guatemalan Special Forces leader, knew the
country and the various owners of farms from that period, which would serve us well very soon. At
sixty, he’s still thin and trim and dresses meticulously, as if he is always ready for
inspection. JR tends to t-shirts and jeans while I’m a fan of light and white clothes, with a
wide-brim panama to protect my shiny dome. We both have lost our hair a long time ago but he
favors a ball cap. At seventy, I claim the age prize: JR, at 63, is working his way along.
As usual, I’d done my homework aka research before I left Antigua, for hotels in Zacapa. The
guidebooks don’t include the town, other than a mention of the regional specialty, a highly
regarded rum. I’d found two possibilities, so that when JR and I followed the semi-useful map
into Zacapa(compliments of Google)and by asking directions several times plus a phone call, we
found the aging Hotel De Leon. The weather wasn’t as hot or humid as it usually is that day but
with a little shade on our 3rd floor balcony and a runner sent out for ice, things improved
dramatically. The De Leon, with 26 rooms and some 60 years old, didn’t offer any ice, at least
on the first night but we learned to cope. I’ve also learned not to ask directions using a map in
this country, for several reasons. A lot of people can’t read and few have ever seen a map, so
the responses are, shall we say, varied, inaccurate and fanciful. Guatemalans don’t like to say
no, as that might be considered offensive and I’ve never heard “I don’t know”…it’s sometimes
charming but always subject to misinterpretations. The ‘captain’ knows maps and appreciates the
topological variety that I always bring but he’s a rare one.
So, at mid-day, we were broken down in the middle of nowhere, on some so-called road that kept
climbing up into the mists of the Sierra de las Minas. JR announced that he couldn’t fix the
problem of the rear drive shaft from ‘flopping around’, a technical term to be sure, and all
could be done was to try and move using the front wheel drive. Mynor, ever resourceful, tried his
mobile telephone and was able to make contact with some local friends. I, having broken down
(mechanically speaking)more than once, assumed that we’d be hiking out, or at best, hitch-hiking
out and taking days to fix this problem. Mynor’s friends answered and even better, arrived in
about ten minutes in a new white Toyota crew cab, with workers in the back of the pickup. They
leaped into action, crawled under the Jeep, made some pounding noises and emerged shortly, with
the section of the rear drive shaft that would’ve caused problems. Hip Hip Hurray! I gave up
the bottle of rum(emergency field rations)to their leader, an older gentlemen smoking a short
Cohiba cigar and wearing a Polo brand shirt, who uncorked it for some immediate tasting. Mynor
told me to give the lead ‘mechanic’ 50 quetzals ($6.00 USD) and we were able to turn around and
limp back to Zacapa using the front wheel drive. Mynor knew of a garage, I knew of a nap long
overdue and the day came to a blissful end.
Once back at the ranch aka the hotel, sitting outside in the cool of the evening, our thoughts
turned to what could be salvaged out of this trip that went sideways. The original idea was
twofold: find the tourmaline deposits and if there was time, the amethyst location. Mynor
admitted,upon gentle questioning, that he hadn’t seen the amethyst deposits for ten years, and it
would take an hour of finding the road, one and half hours to climb up a mountain, etc. Six hours
of up/down, based on a ten year old memory..sanity reared its ugly head, yet again. We’d try for
the finca at the end of the road tomorrow, where the nearby tourmaline deposits were easy to
find. The newly repaired jeep would take us up and beyond where we had failed earlier. And with a
little luck, we’d all be home that night, in our own beds, with hot showers and ice cubes nearby.