Gallon Jug and The Yalbac Hills, Belize

Our incredibly generous hosts in Gallon Jug, Mike & Jill, originally uploaded by sanuzbord.

Our original plan was to leave the day after "The Gallon Jug Day," but to add icing to the cake or shall we say sprinkles to the icing, we were invited to stay another night to join in the festivities of Amanda's (Chan Chich Lodge manager and Jill's sister) birthday. There was to be a cookout and bonfire at "the escarpment." Around four we headed up to "the escarpment" which was a treat in itself. We stood upon a grassy hill high above the canopy of the surrounding forest and looked out at miles of green foliage and fog. From the escarpment we were serenaded by birds and howler monkeys. As the festivities wore on we were surprised by another treat. Dustin (brother of a Gallon Jug local and also a chef and restaurant owner in Belize City) had come armed with his secret weapon and David's favorite...BBQ ribs. And not just any BBQ ribs, but quite possibly the best BBQ ribs we've ever had. On top of that we dined on fresh ceviche, burgers with homemade buns, pasta salad, homemade veggie burgers, peanut butter cake, and of course, Belikin beer galore. We really enjoyed playing with baby Mikayla (Mike and Jill's 9 month old) and getting to know the eclectic mix of people that call Gallon Jug home-- from Michigander cat and bat scientists, tough Southern Belle mamas, and New England school teachers, to Belizean bred entrepreneurs, the night was full of flavor. To add to the fun, a rousing game of flip cup topped off the night.

Before we said our goodbyes to Gallon Jug, we checked out a nearby lagoon and got caught in a torrential downpour which ended up serving some purpose because we had a chance to clean our filthy bikes. Then, off we went down the road again with what seems to be the theme of this trip, full bellies and full hearts. Shortly before finding our camp spot in the Yalbac Hills we encountered some serious mud and a truck dashing through trying to make it without getting stuck. This of course meant for us mud splattered everywhere- clothes, hair, skin, you name it.
We couldn't spare any fresh water to clean up with so a puddle became our bathtub to get the large chunks off with. Additionally, that night of camping would prove to be our scariest yet.

To preface our fear, we have to tell you of a conversation that I (David) had with Bruce (a Gallon Jug local) the night before. Bruce didn't know which direction we were heading in next. He was telling me that once a bike tourist desiring to write a guide book had emailed him about the route we were planning to take, to San Ignacio going South through Gallon Jug and then the Yalbac Hills. Bruce had replied telling him that it would be a very bad idea to recommend this route. While the road leading from Blue Creek Village to Gallon Jug is very safe, the road from Gallon Jug to Spanish Lookout was not. You see, Gallon Jug is very close to the Guatemalan border, a country of great political unrest. Bruce knew of a couple of incidents where logging crews in the Yalbac Hills had been held up and even of a bulldozer being hijacked and taken over the border. I didn't bother telling Leah or Isai this story until the morning after we camped on the side of the road. To top things off, entering the Yalbac Hills was a sign warning "armed guards patrolling..." We found a flat spot to put our tents close to the road but mostly out of sight. Our bikes we left closer to the road, kind of our of sight, but we have plenty of reflectors that make hiding them somewhat difficult just off the road. Around midnight, I awoke to what I thought was the sound of a motor shutting off. I sat up and looked out to see nothing, but heard plenty of noises in the bushes (we were camped in the middle of the jungle after all). I woke Leah to ask her if she had heard what I heard and she hadn't. Just then we heard some big noises from the road direction. I thought for sure some Guatemalans were coming for us or our bikes. I looked outside through the tent window several times never seeing any lights, but still hearing plenty of noises. I finally made the mistake of telling Leah that I was scared. Note to self-- If I'm scared, don't tell Leah, that just makes her twice as scared. Leah and I lay there hands clutched together and hearts pounding until we finally dozed off awaking to any and all noises. But come sunrise, everything was still there and we were safe. There must have been peccaries, big cats, tapirs, you name it, it was likely walking around our tent that night.

Our restless night was exactly what we didn't need for the next day. We started the day off with what was proven to be the hardest and slowest 1 km yet...and it wasn't even up a hill. We left our camp and headed straight into the thickest and stickiest clay mud we have ever encountered. We first tried pedaling, but after 25m, the mud had collected on our tires and our fenders so thick that the wheels weren't able to turn. We each found a "mud stick" that we carried with us to push the mud out from between our fenders and tires. Our next method we attempted was to push our bikes. This ended with not only the same results for our bikes, but our shoes also collected 5 lbs of mud each AND it was harder work. The third method tried was in an area that had the absolute worst mud. At this point I looked back at both Isai and Leah and they were standing in front of their bikes facing them taking two steps backward and pulling their bikes toward them. Isai yelled to me, "I feel like I'm dealing with a stubborn mule!" It took us an hour to go that 1 km and the saddest part is that we were going so slow it didn't even register on our bike computers. We shortly thereafter climbed a hill and got to some higher drier (still muddy though) ground and picked up the pace. We arrived in Spanish Lookout plenty muddy and with bikes that weighed an extra 15 lbs. We got plenty of looks as we wandered around the grocery store with our mud splattered clothes and our extremely muddy bikes outside. We then treated ourselves to some giant sandwiches and topped it off with two pints of delicious mennonite ice cream for lunch. On our way out of Spanish Lookout we got to take a ferry that was on a cable and hand cranked by a "cranky" man who wouldn't so much as smile at us the entire way across the river. Spent the night in San Ignacio and headed out early the next morning for Mountain Pine Ridge.