Author: picsporadic

Expeditions

In January of 2016 I traveled to Peru to reunite with a few friends and circumnavigate Mt. Huascarán ‎6,768m (22,205 ft) by bicycle. The 20 day bikepacking trip started in the hot desert near Samanco and peaked at the Tunnel Punta Olimpica where we crossed at 16,000ft by bicycle. The tour brought us up close to some of the highest mountains in the country where we passed beneath glaciated peaks and alpine lakes. Sponsors: Julbo Eyewear, Perubybike

On International expeditions I have pushed the limits of human-powered travel – taking bikes where they have never been before.

Race History

Pisgah MTB Stage Race

Brendan James – Athlete Resume / Mountain BIke Racing Career

First Views of the Cordillera Blanca

Fatbiking on an Active VolcanoVolcán Santiaguito, Guatemala Published: by PICSPORADIC All of the photos on this page can be purchased for download or print ? Visit store Tweet [views] Baptism by Fire Our attempt at fatbiking on the Santiaguito Volcano - one of Guatemala's most active Volcanoes.Volcan Santiaguito was our first attempt in this expedition,… Continue reading First Views of the Cordillera Blanca

Santiaguito Volcano – Part 2

Brendan James stuggling to get the fatbikes down the steep trail to Volcán Santiaguito. The look on his face says it all. | Photos from Expedition Volcanarchy: Fatbiking Guatemala's Highest Volcanoes.

Taking fatbikes where they have never been before – and with good reason!

Santiaguito – Fatbiking on an Active Volcano

Volcan Santiaguito erruption as seen from our camp at el mirador. From this vantage point you could look out across western Guatemala to the Pacific Ocean. | Photos from Expedition Volcanarchy: Fatbiking Guatemala's Highest Volcanoes.

Baptism by fire. Our first objective of the trip would be our hardest

Volcanarchy – Gear

Our fully loaded Fatback Rhino Fatbikes. The Volcano expedition combined biking, hiking, and camping and we had to carry supplies for mulitiple days. | Photos from Expedition Volcanarchy: Fatbiking Guatemala's Highest Volcanoes.

Fatbikes and other gear we used on the Volcanarchy Expedition

Camino Silencio – Bikepacking the Cordillera Negra Peru

Resting in the small town of Quilcay. Home to only 3 families this small town wasn't on our map but we were glad we found it! Reaching 10,000ft on our third day of the trip liz and I were in the begining stages of altitude sickness. The locals here invited us for lunch and sent us on our way with some hard boiled eggs for the road.

Barren and remote “El Camino Silencio” Crosses one of the highest and direst mountain ranges on earth.

Bikepacking in Totonicapán – a mini adventure

[rev_slider_vc alias="totonicapan"] Published: by PICSPORADIC  All of the photos on this page can be purchased for download or print ? Visit store [views]  Totonicapán, GuatemalaA visit to the communal forest of the 48 Cantones Keeping tradition with my recent weekend epics in and around Guatemala I made a second visit to an area few locals even… Continue reading Bikepacking in Totonicapán – a mini adventure

Big Mountain MTB Tour – Guatemala

First rays of the sun at 3500m | Big Mountain Bike Adventures "Land of Plenty" Tour Day 4: Acatenango to Tecpán

Original Date: 02/21/2018
Location: (3556m) | Chimaltenango, Guatemala
© 2018 Brendan James Photography www.picsporadic.com

Photos from a 6 day itinerary with the Whistler based mountain bike tour operator

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Published: by PICSPORADIC 

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Expedición ANP

(Áreas naturales protegidas del Perú)

In 2015 me and two Peruvian amigos approached SERNANP with the goal of promoting ecotourism within the country through cycletourism. We proposed a media trip / expedition that would showcase the protected areas of Peru by bikepacking through Huascarán National Park.

The Servicio Nacional de Áreas Naturales Protegidas por el Estado – (SERNANP) is an environmental agency who’s mission is to ensure the conservation of the Peru’s natural protected areas and biological diversity by maintaining a low environmental impact.

SERNANP administers the Protected Natural Areas in Peru with the aim of sustainability managing biological diversity and ecosystems in a way that provides benefit to society.

Bicycle travel is a unique form of tourism that has a low impact on the environment and is the perfect way to experience the outdoors. Through our expedition we would promote sustainable travel and publicize the efforts that Peru was making towards environmental conservation.

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Principles of the Expedition

  • Capture the beauty of Peru’s Natural Protected Areas with photos and video as experienced by cycling.

  • Share a cross-cultural cycle touring experience with members from United States and Peru.

  • Demonstrate the use of bicycles and for tourism – generating new opportunists for the local economy.

  • Promote the country of Peru as a destination for mountain biking and adventure cycling.

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The Obejective:

The Huascarán Circut

The Huascarán Circuit is considered to be one of the most beautiful and demanding bicycle touring routes in the world. The 300km loop circumnavigates the highest point in Peru:  Nevado Huascarán (6,768m / 22,205 ft) with an average elevation of around 3,000m and crosses 3 mountain passes over 4,000 mts.

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Meet the Team:

Manuel Aristondo

Owner, Perubybike

Manuel is a lifelong lover of adventure sports. He a degree in Tourism Management from the University of San Martin de Porres in Lima, Peru. He has run 12 marathons and trekked in many of the country’s national parks.

Manuel is enthusiastic about bicycle travel as a means to generate tourism and develop new opportunities for the economy of the local people.

Eddy Jhon Ordoño

Guide, Photographer

A native to the Lake Titicaca Region of Peru Eddy has a deep passion for mountain biking and tourism in Peru.   He has traveled extensively throughout the country and visited many of the natural protected areas. He enjoys photography and sharing his country with the world.

Brendan James

Photographer, Traveler, Athlete

Brendan first traveled to Peru in 2005 at the age of 20 on a motorcycle expedition that began in Ecuador. He has since visited the country numerous times for climbing expeditions in the Cordillera Blanca. He is interested in forming new relationships between the parks service, mountain biking, and environmental conservation within the country.

Episodes:

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Published: by PICSPORADIC 

Gallery:

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Dark Clouds – looking west from the summit of Mt. Mansfield – Vermont’s highest point towards Lake Champlain and the Adirondack Mountains
 
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Aerial Photography

 

A collection of imagery taken from the sky

Photos above the earth

In the summer of 2016 I got my first drone: a Solo by 3D Robotics. After a few unfateful first flights including several crashes – I began using it in production for action sports and videography. Where I missed the opportunity was with photos that I could take with this drone.

The drone picks up where the traditional photographer is limited – (usually around 6′ ) extending the perspective beyond the earthly realm. Drones afford the photographer limitless opportunities to see the world in new ways.

Through digital blending I have developed a unique technique of stitching together enormous panoramas (oftentimes from around 20 photos)  to showcase landscapes and the human world in rich detail from above.

The 3DR Solo cruising above land, air and sky in Northern Vermont
Sunset over Lamoille County, Vermont as seen from the fire tower on Mt. Elmore.
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180deg View above my house in East Burke, Vermont
 

San Antonio Palopó Photography

 Perched on the edge of Lake Atitlán is a town without time.

Published: by PICSPORADIC 

San Antonio Palopó

At the end of the precarious one-lane paved road from Panajachel is the small town of San Antonio Palopo. Isolated in geography and tradition, its largely indigenous population work the land and in the waters of Lake Atitlán.

The first time I saw San Antonio I was awestruck. The town is a contiguous structure of concrete block and wire – simple homesteads and livestock- intertwined by tight alleyways and rusty tin roofs climbing the mountainside above the lake. The locals carry provisions on their heads up steep steps to cliff dwellings which seamlessly integrate with terraced fields of onions, the local crop.

The first time I saw San Antonio I was awestruck. The town is a contiguous structure of concrete block and wire – simple homesteads and livestock- intertwined by tight alleyways and rusty tin roofs climbing the mountainside above the lake. The locals carry provisions on their heads up steep steps to cliff dwellings which seamlessly integrate with terraced fields of onions, the local crop.

An incredible contrast of beauty and poverty

Through my work with Mayan Families my understanding of San Antonio changed greatly. It wasn’t until I got up close with the people there that I realized just how marginalized the population had become. During hurricane sandy in 2012 the town lost its only school in a landslide – since then there has been no aid on the behalf of the government to rebuild the school.  The school was necessary for many reasons. The people of San Antonio speak Kaqchikel  and without lessons in the spanish language an entire generation is growing up without the tools to communicate and work outside of their community.

Rooted in tradition – Farmers work the steep hillsides above Lake Atitlán.

Cebolla

Acres of onions

Everyone San Antonio grows up working the fields. The terraced plots of land stretch upwards from the town joined together by irrigation ditches and small plastic pipe; the lifeline of water in this dry region of Guatemala. The main crop of the town is cebolla or onions.

The onions are sold clean which involves a tremendous amount of work and water. Most children begin work when they can walk, and can be seen working alongside the elders in the fields. There is very little work in San Antonio, everyone grows onions. It’s their only crop.

Many of the Mayan farmers are suffering from the low prices they receive for their crops.  Once a month the large trucks come to town to pick up the harvest.  The farmers heave their heavy sacks of produce on their heads walk the steep paths down from the fields to market. At the truck there is an on-site bidding war and once the truck is full the driver leaves. The cheap produce bound for the capital of Guatemala city and eventually the United States of America.

Gregorio age 67 has been farming the terraced onion pataches above San Antonio his entire life. The man invited me to take his photo after discovering me on his land. His farm shack has the best veiw of the lake and the town below.

Gregorio

I met Gregorio on my photo hunt mountains above the town. His plot sits at a cliff overlooking all of San Antonio and as I set up my tripod he came up to me. Gregorio seventy years old and walks up to the terraces each day where he grows onions and a bit of Marijuana. He spoke just enough Spanish to tell me a bit of history about the lake, his family and the town where he has been living his entire life.

Two months ago his eldest left for the United States, crossing the border illegally in a dangerous 40 day journey. His son now lives in new York where he works in a kitchen. He will most likely never return to his beautiful homeland in Guatemala. The old man and I sat for about an hour, both of us chatting in our broken spanish and taking in the amazing view of Lake Atitlán.

The construction continues perpetually. Each man working tirelessly to weave his piece of the giant puzzle of San Antonio with cement and block.

Houses on top of houses on the steep hillside.

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Acatenango

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The final attempt

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 Volcán Acatenango (3,976m) from the east. It’s dual summit cones towering above the nearby pueblo of Parramos

Volcán Acatenango (3,976m)

Acatenango is the tallest volcano you can see from the cultural and tourist center of Antigua below. Antigua is ringed by three volcanoes: Agua to the ?? and Acatenango and Fuego to the ??. Volcan Fuego is one of seven (??) volcanoes in Guatemala that is currently active. It erupts several times a day. It shares a saddle with Acatenango, and therefore Acatenango’s summit is the closest you can get to an active volcano in Guatemala.

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Riding out of Chimaltenango towards the volcano — the beginning of a very long day.
 
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One last chance...

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After the strain and sickness we suffered from our time spent in the North, we took a few days at home in Panajachel to recover. But we couldn’t wait long- I had a flight out to the US in a week. It was time for me to return to North America for my racing season.

To be completely honest, neither Brendan nor I were very excited about this last expedition. We were tired and weak. Both of us were malnourished, the strain of sickness had gotten to both our heads and we were afraid that anything we ate could set it off again. So we struggled with trying to fuel enough to improve our strength, and eating as little as possible to prevent getting sick again. If one of us got sick again, it was all over.

We had arranged to stay with our friend Jordan in Chimaltenango, the city closest to Acatenango. From there, it would be a couple hours bike ride plus hopefully a hitch in a pickup to the base of the volcano, where we would start our climb.

We ditched as much weight as we could: anything not essential would stay behind. Still, because of the necessary food and water, we were both carrying around 70 pounds. We packed strategically: as much weight on the bikes as possible for the pedal up, easily transferrable to our empty backpacks to begin the hike. I wasn’t going to mess around with pushing- I was going to strap my bike directly to my pack as soon as it got steep. A summit push despite any odds was very much on both our minds. This was our last chance.

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Preparing, fighting a battle with doubt. Could we do it?

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Our Last Chance

I awoke with a start before the alarm. I was a bundle of nerves. I hadn’t been this anxious since my early days of bike racing. I knew today was going to hurt. Could I do it? Could WE do it? Brendan had been sick for weeks now, and although he was one of the toughest people I knew, everybody has their limits.

And as for me, the nagging question in my head: am I physically strong enough? This load, 70 pounds, was WELL over half my bodyweight. We had both lost significant weight from sickness. Could I physically carry the load? The entire expedition I had been adamant about carrying my full load, including my share of the group gear. I had not invited Brendan on this trip so he could carry all of the weight.

As a small woman, to be taken seriously as an athlete I must insist on being an equal partner and this was not the time to stop. I had to push away the doubt and replace it with a mantra: I will not fail. Never, never, never give up. With this in mind, I followed Brendan out of Jordan’s house, got on my loaded bike, and started pedaling through Chimaltenango rush hour traffic towards the looming volcano.

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At the base of the trail, I immediately strapped my bike to my backpack. I have learned that while Brendan is able to make good time pushing his bike uphill, it is better for me to carry. All the weight above me just pushes me backwards. I find myself having to turn sideways often to work my way through the underbrush, but I am actually making progress.

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View from the flanks of Volcan Acatenango, Guatemala’s highest volcano in a chain along the Sierra Madre de Chiapas

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A guide's mountain

Acatenango is a guide’s mountain. Outfits from Antigua contract with local guides from the village at the base of the mountain who are members of a guide’s coalition to ensure they all get work. Tourists are shuttled up from Antigua by the busload, for day trips and camping.

Soon a Mayan guía catches up with me as he brings a straggling tourist up to his group. Tomás is 40 years old, and has been guiding the mountain three times a week for the past 20 years. He sees people going up with bikes occasionally, but never bikes and camping gear to the summit. He smiles at my awkward pack, but his smile is one of knowing, not doubting. He is no stranger to heavy loads.

Volcán Fuego is a close neighbor of Acatenango, and is the most active volcano in Guatemala. It was the first natural wonder of the country that I had witnessed from far down in the valley when I arrived in Guatemala exactly a year earlier for the race. Its explosive energy drew me in, and it had become a dream of mine to experience it up close.

But I knew what was ahead: a steep couloir full of volcanic rubble where it would again be one step forward, three feet back. And the final barrier to the crater was a technical rock scramble with complicated routefinding. No problem, in the daylight without 70 pounds on our backs.

Fueled by willpower

Four hours pass quickly, then six. Brendan and I try to take in as much food as possible in attempt to regain strength from our sickness, but we are depleted and not moving as quickly as we’d like.

Still, I am surprised at how strong I am feeling, despite the 70 pounds I am awkwardly carrying. I am fueled by willpower to complete an objective and the dream I have of sleeping on top of a 13,000 foot volcano next to an active volcano.

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Committed to the struggle

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It took us six hours to even reach treeline with our heavy loads.

The moment of truth

As we reach the saddle, it is cold, dark, and windy. We catch a glimpse of the summit cone of Acatenango in the moonlight as clouds fly past. It looks far away.

Brendan says he wants to make camp at the saddle, and summit in the morning with just the bikes. He gives a number of valid reasons: It will be cold and windy up at 13,000 feet, routefinding through the rocks in the dark will be difficult, we could get lost, he is exhausted. It all makes sense.

But I am determined and not easily talked out of my dream when we are so close. There are no words strong enough to explain how much it means to me. Finally, Brendan agrees to push for the summit.

Step, step, slide. I have been carrying well over half my bodyweight for ten hours. I slip to my knees in the steep couloir and fight to stay upright, blocking out thoughts of failure. “Just keep moving. If the Mayans can do it, I can too. Con tiempo, todo se puede.” My mind plays tricks on me as I struggle in the dark, trying desperately to once again channel the tenacity of the Papabikers. I know they are following our adventure and I want to make them proud.

The dream realized

When we finally crest the summit cone with nothing but the sky stretching endlessly overhead, I am overcome with emotion. After all the hardships and doubts, we finally made it. We are up at 13,000 feet with our fat bikes, and we are going to camp face to face with Volcán Fuego. The wind is ripping, but I don’t feel the cold. The stars are brilliant and the purplish glow of the Milky Way casts its hue on the rocks. I have never felt so insignificant.

Suddenly, like an unexpected and esteemed party guest throwing open a door, Fuego announces its presence. A huge black cloud silently billows up from the hole that runs straight down to the earth’s core, and a huge geyser of magma spouts high up into the air. It lights the night up a brilliant red, then rains down on the flanks of the mountain and fades to blackness.

It is impossible to fathom what is happening in front of me. It is too powerful to comprehend, and it is a force of nature I will never truly understand. All I know is that the past twelve hours of suffering were worth it for that moment. We stand in awe as the earth trembles under our feet. No cameras are rolling, but the scene is forever etched in my memory.

When Fuego has finished its spectacular welcome, it falls silent. The wind, which had been ripping across the crater of Acatenango, goes quiet as well. We are left staring into the cold, clear, quiet vacuum of night. The stars look close enough to touch. There are no other beings around: we are alone with the volcano. It is the calmest night I have ever spent in the mountains, and I sleep more soundly than I have in months.

- el Fin -

Volcanarchy: Ixchiguan pt. 3

Piedras Partidas

The Kindness of Strangers

Sick, desperate, and out of options, Brendan and I stood in the center of Ixchiguan in the dark. We had one card left to play. The kind pharmacist Ramirez who gave us medicine also gave his phone number. Brendan called and asked if we could pitch our tent behind the pharmacy.

Ramirez said that he owned another pharmacy in town which had a small room with beds above it, and we were welcome to stay there. His family lived just down the hill.

He met us with his pickup truck and took us to the room. “Stay here as long as you like,” he told us in clear, slow Spanish to make sure we understood. “It is peaceful here and you will be safe and warm. I am right down the hill if you need anything.” The room was well ventilated, with small and comfortable beds we were happy to crawl into, shivering after getting out of our soaking wet clothes.

The room above Ramirez’s pharmacy where we recovered from sickness.

Ramirez returned with hot tea and fresh bread that his wife had made, along with more of the medicine for us to take over the next two days. “Tomorrow, when you are better, you will meet my family. Do not hurry, this is your home for as long as you like.” It did not take long for me to fall into a deep sleep, only waking up to run to the bathroom a few times.

The next day, we slept and recovered. One at a time, Ramirez brought each of his many family members up to meet us, including his 95 year old father. He presented each of them proudly to us like he was introducing the President.

Latin cultures are very community oriented, and the extended family is revered above all else. Each had the same look: stoic and resilient, yet very kind. All of them welcomed us to their home and village. Throughout the day, Ramirez and his wife Dora brought us bread and tea.

Back on the bikes!

Exploring Piedras Partidas

The next day, Brendan and I felt good enough for a short ride. We wouldn’t be able to attempt Tacana, but we didn’t want to lose the opportunity to explore this beautiful, remote area of Guatemala that most people never see.

We headed very slowly up the hill about 5 kilometers to a local landmark, Piedras Partidas: an extinct volcanic cone that is the highest point in the San Marcos region.

Piedras Partidas is a popular place for people of the area to come and enjoy with their families. It was Semana Santa (Easter) weekend, the biggest holiday of the year in Guatemala. There were many people picnicking, hiking around, and scrambling on the rocks.

We saw some very old Mayan ladies in their traditional dress climbing up the steep faces with remarkable agility. Young children were frolicking around alone on the rocks, their parents unconcerned. Kids learn self-reliance and self-preservation at a very young age in Guatemala.

Some of the families were doing Catholic religious ceremonies, where they would chant, sing, and wail while lighting glass candles with pictures of Christ and the Virgin Mary painted on them. Eventually they would hurl these candles, glass and all, off the top of the rocks into the cirque below, and they would shatter on the rocks.

I found this an interesting practice, which left the beautiful rock formations littered with broken glass, but stranger things have happened in the name of religion.

The riding at Piedras Partidas was like nothing I had ever ridden before. It was conglomerate rock, globs of round stones melded together by solidified grey lava, cascading steeply down the extinct cone in couloir-like formations. Using what little energy we had, we hiked up and down the rock lines, linking together longer and longer segments of the tricky terrain until we couldn’t take another upward step.

Quite a spectacle

The Mayans watched us from above, cheering us on when we would skid down the steep rock chutes on our bikes. I was a little nervous that they might not like us riding our bikes all over the place they were doing their religious ceremonies, but in typical Guatemalan fashion — as long as we weren’t camping without permission on private land — anything goes, and no one cared what we were doing aside from finding us entertaining and hilarious.

Brendan shreds a steep line as some locals cheer from above.
 

Mayans of all ages come to Piedras Partidas to enjoy the beautiful area with their families, scramble on the rocks, and perform religious ceremonies.

At the end of the day, we rode back down the hill into another stunning sunset towards Ixchiguan. Ramirez was waiting for us, and told us we were invited to have dinner with his family in their home. As we changed clothes and went down the hill, the aroma of fresh bread wafted out the windows. For once in what felt like a long time, I was actually hungry.

 
 

Ramirez of Ixchiguan

As Dora made stew over the wood fire, Ramirez regaled us with stories of his family and his life in remote northern Guatemala.

He told us of his years spent working for the DEA in the United States, flying around in helicopters busting narcotraficantes trying to get across the border.

A helicopter crash that left him needing back surgery ended his career, and he returned to his community and became a pharmacist.

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With the money earned from his time with the DEA, Ramirez is ensuring that his family is well taken care of and his children get a good education. His daughter is becoming a kindergarten teacher; and his son is in medical school, and returns home to work at the pharmacy on the weekends.
 
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The whole family had gathered for Semana Santa, and they were taking part in the community celebration which included dancing with elaborate masks and costumes, decorating the streets, and horses trained to do all sorts of tricks.

It was an unforgettable evening spent with this warm and welcoming family, whose lives were so different than ours, but who shared many of the same values and aspirations.

Saying Goodbye

The next morning, despite many invitations to stay and join the family for the Semana Santa festivities, we packed up our bikes to get back on the road. We had only a week left, and one more objective to complete. We were determined to get to the top of the next volcano, and we needed to make our way back across the country.

We said our goodbyes with gratitude, pointed our loaded bikes back towards the south, and rode away from Ixchiguan — with the elusive Tacana, still untouched, growing ever smaller over our shoulders.

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Saying our goodbyes with gratitude to Ramirez, his family, and our pharmacy home.
 

Volcanarchy: Ixchiguan pt. 2

Exploring the northern region of Guatemala and Ixchiguán on fatbikes

 

Brendan heads up the hill above Ixchiguan as our shadows grow long. 

A place to rest

After our much-needed siesta on the side of the road between Tajumulco and Tacana, Brendan and I continued north. We were headed for the pueblo of Sibinal, which was at the base of Volcan Tacana. But our siesta had set us back, and we knew we would not make the 40k to Sibinal that night.

We crested a hill as the shadows were growing long, and we were both getting hungry. Below us was a town: the village of Ixchiguan. Maybe we could camp somewhere around here? It would be a push for Tacana in the morning, but anything that would help Brendan recover was our priority- solid food and a good night’s sleep. As we coasted down, we saw a steep trail heading up an adjacent hillside towards a cemetery. The hill was just above treeline. It looked peaceful up there. Although we didn’t really have the energy to push the bikes up another hill – we decided to have a look.

Room with a view

At the crest of the hill was a Cemetario, with a few lone horses grazing in the stubbly alpine grass. Uphill from us a sleepy pueblo lay off in the distance.  We scouted the barren slope for a flat spot to camp for the evening -out of sight of the Mayans. To the west we had a 180 degree panorama with views of Volcán Tajumulco on our left and Tacaná off to the right. Here we were, at our tiny spot in space – halfway between our two objectives and our view framed by the two largest points in the continent.

Our hilltop camping spot was perfect.  Although we could not see it we knew the Pacific ocean was right there – 11,00ft below us and beneath the coastal clouds. “Not too bad!” said Brendan, eagerly setting up his tripod as the last light of the day faded.

Sunset haze over Volcán Tajumulco
 

When we crested the hill above Ixchiguan, there was no one in sight. The sun was setting, a storm was brewing on the horizon, and we were eager to put up the tent and cook dinner.

I wondered if we should find someone to ask if we could camp there, but we both knew it would take too much time to attempt to chase down a caretaker at that point. We figured we would be out of there early enough in the morning that no one would notice us.

In the distance, a major electrical storm was quickly enveloping the ridge between us and Tajumulco. As the sun set it took with it it’s last golden rays beneath the clouds. I put up the tent while Brendan cooked dinner, trying to minimize the time we would need to be outside if the storm came our way. Thunder rumbled and lightning cracked across the sky as we huddled in the dirt alcove, sheltered from the wind. We ate our simple staple of a travel meal (quinoa, pasta sauce and dehydrated tofu) and watched the storm rage and then roll on. Thankfully, it didn’t reach us.

Full moon rising above Volcán Tacaná

A different kind of storm

Sometime in the night, I awoke to a different kind of storm brewing- this time in my stomach. Oh shit. I spent the rest of the night running for the bushes. I don’t think I’ve ever been that sick in my life.

In the morning, I learned that Brendan had gotten it too. Sick on top of sick. We laid in the tent all morning, both moaning in pain in between runs for the bushes, trying to figure out what had gotten us. Was it the packeted sauce? The dehydrated tofu? Or maybe the breakfast we had many hours earlier at the tienda near the base of Tajumulco? Whatever it was, it got us good. We were wrecked.

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Oh… shit.

Sickness strikes

Volcán Tacaná towered over us just a little ways north, but it might as well have been on another continent. At that point neither of us cared.

Just when we thought nothing else could possibly go wrong...

In the afternoon, clouds rolled in and a misty rain started to fall. We drifted in and out of fitful sleep, punctuated by stomach cramps. At around 4 pm, I awoke to the sound of commanding voices outside.

I peeked through the tent mesh and saw 12 angry Mayans standing there, both men and women, armed with clubs. My heart dropped into my stomach as I shook Brendan awake. “I think we’re in trouble.”

Brendan went outside while I stayed lying in a heap hoping that being a sick woman would evoke mercy. The villagers from up the hill had been watching us throughout the day and raised the alarm. This group was sent as representatives from the village to run us out.

Brendan explained the situation, that we did not mean any harm, that we were tourists traveling by bike and headed to the volcano, we had planned to leave early in the morning, but had gotten sick during the night.

They gave us a 20 minute speech, saying that we should not be here, that it was private land, people come there to pay respects to their dead and would not want to see someone camping up there, and besides it was dangerous: there were coyotes around, and people who would come and throw us off the cliff while we were in the tent.

Brendan pleaded for one more night to recover, saying the woman in the tent was very sick and could not move. They wanted to see me, so I poked my head out of the tent and moaned, “disculpeme, no tengo problemas, estoy muy enferma.”

No mercy

The group had a tense conversation in Mam, the native Mayan language of the northern region. Finally, they informed us that they would give us one hour to pack up and move on. If we were not gone in an hour — “there will be problems.”

It was evident they felt threatened by us. The wild border area was known for narcotrafficking, and certainly not for tourism. No one here sees gringos. Sick, tired, and frustrated, trying not to shit our pants, we packed our things in the cold rain as they smirked, smacking their clubs in their hands.

We finally managed to stuff our wet gear into our packs and trudged off, dripping and despondent, back down the hill towards town.

When we got to Ixchiguan, I was a wreck. I was barely able to move without releasing a foul torrent of liquid bowel magma down my pant legs. My stomach felt like something had curled up and died in there, and its ghost was trying to claw its way out.

Brendan was slightly more functional, and when we stopped at the pharmacy, the first building in town, he went in to seek help while I lay in a pathetic heap on the side of the road.

He emerged with a concerned-looking Mayan man who introduced himself as Ramirez. He was the pharmacist, and wanted to talk to me. He was very kind as he asked me about my symptoms, and quickly produced water and some pills for both of us: an antiparasitic drug he said would have us feeling better in two or three days.

He also gave us the names of the two hotels in town, and his phone number, with instructions to call him if we needed any help.

Darkness fell as Brendan and I slogged up the main street of Ixchiguan. We found both hotels and looked at the rooms. They were no place for a sick person: stinking of mold, no ventilation, and sketchy electrical wires running everywhere. I would rather sleep outside.

As we stumbled back out into the night, I was trying hard to hold it together. Freaking out or panicking wasn’t going to get us anywhere, but I was at my wits end and doing everything I could to keep from having to drop my pants and shit in the street.

Desperate, I pulled out Ramirez’s number and asked Brendan to please call him. “And ask him what?” he asked. “I don’t know,” I said. “But he said to call if we needed help. And I think we need help.”

Volcanarchy: Ixchiguan pt. 1

 

Exploring the northern region of Guatemala and Ixchiguán on fatbikes

Ixchiguán and the Search for Volcán Tacaná

The time Liz and I spent in Ixchiguán was not the highlight of our trip. It involved a terrible stomach sickness for the two of us, an unfriendly encounter with the locals, and we had to scrap one of my most coveted objectives of the entire expedition: the ascent of Volcán Tacaná (4060m).

For this leg of the journey we had to travel from home in Panajachel to the the remote northern border that Guatemala shares with Mexico. When our friends Sergio, Oscar, and Pichi dropped us off at the base of Volcan Tajumulco we were prepared to spend up to 6 days in the region with the objective to fatbike from the base of Volcan Tajumulco to Tacana.

There was very little information on the route or the roads in the area. I was recovering from a sickness that had left me bedridden for 3 days and too weak to get to the summit of Volcan Tajumulco  – lowering our morale even more. My plan was to recover “on the road” and take it slowly.

When you reach the end of the Chicken bus network you move on to pickups.
 

For this leg of the journey we had to travel from home in Panajachel to the the remote northern border that Guatemala shares with Mexico. When our friends Sergio, Oscar, and Pichi dropped us off at the base of Volcan Tajumulco we were prepared to spend up to 6 days in the region with the objective to fatbike from the base of Volcan Tajumulco to Tacana.

There was very little information on the route or the roads in the area. I was recovering from a sickness that had left me bedridden for 3 days and too weak to get to the summit of Volcan Tajumulco  – lowering our morale even more. My plan was to recover “on the road” and take it slowly.

Gallery

A dream unfinished

When Liz came to me with the idea of Volcanarchy I somewhat knew what logistics would be involved. I had hiked most of the objectives on foot with the exception of Volcan Tacana. Ever since I had stood on the summit of Tajumulco looking across towards the Mexican border I had been enticed by the volcano’s appeal. It was big, remote, and stood alone, with much more prominence than Tajumulco.

There were two routes to its summit: one involved a 3 day trek from the Mexican side of the border and the other involved reaching the remote town of Sibinal on the Guatamala side to which there was very little public transportation. To my knowledge no one has taken bicycles up Tacana – I knew it would be the highlight of the expedition.

Coincidentally we were also scheduled to be in the San Marcos district during the holy week of Semana Santa, during which they have a hiker’s reunion on the mountain, so I thought that would be cool to catch as well.

San Marcos District

The northern frontier of Guatemala

Looking across the valley beneath Tajumulco you can see the endless patchwork of fields and switch-backed dirt roads that climb the impossibly steep terrain. Although they are numerous, none of the roads are on the map and our research for this trip had to be done entirely with satellite imagry.

Beyond the law

All the information on the San Marcos District is a bit sketchy. The area is known for narco-trafficking and violence and it shares a rugged and lengthy un-patrolled border with the Chiapas district in Mexico. During the Guatemalan civil war in the 70’s and 80’s the area was a stronghold of the rebel forces and they even used the summit of Volcan Tajumulco as a radio base to communicate with their soldiers.

The entire area has a certain lawlessness to it, with very little police presence and no tourism infrastructure. The entire region of San Marcos is at or above 10,000ft and can be considered alpine terrain, with very few trees, extreme weather and volcanic formations. The temperature ranges from blistering hot in the sun to extreme cold at night – San Marcos is one of the few areas in Guatemala that receives snowfall.

Back on the road!

Joining Volcan Tajumulco and Tacana by bike

 

After a welcome breakfast with a family who ran a small tienda at the base of Tajumulco we were off along the highway to Sibinal.  Taking the fatbikes on pavement can be a bit of a bog so we pumped up the tire p.s.i in preparation for the 40k journey. The highway afforded enormous views southward across the country and east towards Huehuetenango.

I was moving slowly, weakened from our 12 hour climb of Tajumulco and a shivering cold night in the tent the day before. The weather in the northern area could be quite temperamental – hot one minute in the sun and freezing cold the next in the shade. We were at 10,000ft after all.

We made our way slowly gaining altitude en route to Sibinal, somewhat recovering from an intense day on Volcan Tajumulco. The energy just wasn’t there for me that day and I ended up passing out on the roadside, still very sick from the week before. We had already been through a lot on this expedition and I found myself at an all time low –  with serious doubts that we would make our objective of Volcan Tacana after traveling so far.

Both weak from the day before we decided to take a long siesta on the side of the highway and take in the clouds as they cascaded up the valley.

Volcanarchy: Tajumulco pt. 2

A journey to the highest point in Central America:  Volcán Tajumulco

 

Head down, brain off. Finding my rhythm one step at a time. 

The Journey Upwards

As Brendan and I snaked our way up the flanks of Volcan Tajumulco, the trail quickly turned steep. We gradually learned the most efficient and effective methods for each of us to make progress. Brendan’s preferred method was pushing. Since he is tall and can get more leverage against the load, he made good time this way.

For me, the best method was lifting my bike overhead and balancing it across my shoulders, resting it on the top of my pack. Pushing the bike, for me, mostly results in pushing myself backwards. It is steep and loose, and the bike is too heavy. So I shoulder the bike, put my head down, turn off my brain, and march upwards.

For me, the best method was lifting my bike overhead and balancing it across my shoulders, resting it on the top of my pack. Pushing the bike, for me, mostly results in pushing myself backwards. It is steep and loose, and the bike is too heavy. So I shoulder the bike, put my head down, turn off my brain, and march upwards.

Below me, Brendan fell further and further back. I was worried, as I have never seen him move that slowly. Usually he is the strongest of any group we are in. I could tell he was deep in the pain cave and struggling. He had barely eaten anything in days, bedridden and sick, and he was running on nothing but tenacity and willpower.

Above me, our friends were still sprinting uphill. I waited as they slipped from my sight. Brendan and I had always stuck together on rides where one of us was struggling, the other hanging quietly back for moral support. This time would be no different. I knew he would push as far as he could.

Volcán Tajumulco (4,220m)

Brendan leans on his bike as he struggles uphill, fighting waves of nausea.
 

We finally hit a ridgeline, and there was an eerie feeling to the place as we continued up.  The fog was otherworldly, almost alive, like a veil of heavy grey algae that we had to swim through. Standing over 100 feet tall, ghostly Araucauria trees slipped in and out of the mist as we trudged past. I looked up at them in awe. I could barely see the tops. I felt like I had gone back in time, walking past these ancient trees I had only seen before in pictures.

A Rebel Stronghold

Finally we reached the base of the summit cone. Just below us in an old steam vent crater stood the remnants of a building: the remains of an old rebel base from the civil war that ended twenty years ago. Tajumulco had been a rebel stronghold, and there are still 500 untriggered land mines lying buried somewhere around the mountain. I shuddered in the fog, silently vowing to stick to the trails on this one. This was not a place to get lost.

As we huddled close together in the rocks for warmth, our backs against the biting wind, we decided to pull the plug. Brendan was cracked, sick, and the summit was still enshrouded in the milky veil. Our friends flew past us from somewhere above, hooting and hollering as they descended wildly only half in control. We had to laugh, and cheered them on as they charged out of sight. It was the Guatemalan way.

Okay, its not the summit but we’ll celebrate anyways

The Golden Hour

Finally, a reward for our efforts.

As we slowly made our way down, the fog finally cracked, and we were rewarded for taking our time. A burst of warm golden light filtered through revealing the tops of the ancient Araucaria trees reaching for the sky, and bathing us in warmth.

Suddenly we could see where we were: atop a huge ridgeline, with vast, mountainous terrain below stretching all the way to Mexico in the north, Xela in the south, and the Pacific Ocean far on the horizon. The clouds below us ebbed and flowed like waves in the valleys. The struggle was forgotten as we stood in awe of the scene around us.

A network in no-man's land

In this remote area of northern Guatemala, we were looking down upon a network of human life. Hundreds of tiny roads snaked along ridgelines, dropping precipitously down the canyons with tight switchbacks. The roads connected to countless tiny villages that don’t exist on any map, invisible to most of the world. This was a different sort of wilderness.

Timelapse at 13,000 ft.

Time to go down!

The ride down the flanks of Tajumulco was so fun it should be illegal. The trails were carved deeply into the soil like tiny canyons, changing quickly from shallow to handlebar high and back again, snaking through the trees and popping out into green meadows where the golden light and swirling fog danced around like some sort of trippy dream. Darkness came quickly as we re-entered the dark forest. A drizzly rain started to fall, making the roots, rocks and steep dropoffs tricky to negotiate.

Nighted

We donned lights and pulled out the GPS. We had not tracked our ascent route as we needed to ration batteries for the week. Looking at the topo, we knew we were headed in the right direction, but trails were snaking everywhere. Routefinding went from difficult to impossible. Slowly we continued on, being careful to stay on the ridgeline and not drop off into the canyons. Though neither of us said it, thoughts of untriggered landmines were in the back of both our minds.

Lost in the dark on a volcano covered in land mines? No Thanks.

Suddenly, we saw lights off to our right. Was it a house? Maybe the one we were camped at? We stopped, contemplating. Then, flashlights pointed at us. Maybe it was our friends searching for us! We started moving towards them. As we got closer, we realized it was not our friends, but four soldiers from the Guatemalan army, complete with night vision goggles and assault rifles.

We are definitely in their territory: a shine of their lights behind them reveals a large military base, obviously built to ensure the guerrilla forces that had Tajumulco as a stronghold during the war don’t come back. Brendan and I look at each other, silently thankful we can communicate in Spanish as we explain our harmless intent. The soldiers point us the right way towards our camp and we ride into the night.

When we reached camp, our friends were overjoyed to see us. They had been worried. Sergio and Oscar had been out searching for us twice, and also for Pichi who had gotten onto the wrong trail and was lost alone for two hours in the dark. Somehow, she said, she had ended up two valleys over. She had just returned, exhausted.

Oscar was cooking dinner and tea, and we gladly contributed our share. The hot meal warmed us from the inside, and we crawled into our tent as the dust swirled and the wind howled around us, reminding us we were at 11,000ft. I was asleep before my head hit the pillow.

“Extreme” – go figure

Moving On

In the morning Brendan still felt weak, but his nausea was gone. We decided to ride north to Volcan Tacana as planned. We felt deflated by falling short on Santiaguito and now Tajumulco. We wondered aloud if we had bitten off more than we could chew, and if our goal was even possible.

Sergio, no stranger to these pursuits, has one piece of advice for us as he bids us farewell: “Con tiempo, todo se puede:” With time, all can be done.

- el Fin. -

Volcanarchy: Tajumulco pt. 1

A journey to the highest point in Central America:  Volcán Tajumulco

 

Volcán Tajumulco (4,220m)

From the west, Volcàn Tajumulco towers above the coastal planes and the Chiapas region of Mexico, lifting like a hunched giant above the tropical haze. The mountain’s broad grey summit is one of the few places in central America that receives snowfall. From the east the volcáno is more attainable, sloping up gently from the San Marcos highlands where a mere 1000m of climbing brings you to its 4,220m summit.

Volcán Tajumulco (4,220m)

Snow-capped Volcán Tajumulco from the west.
 
Pushing the fatbikes uphill is becoming the norm for this trip.

Of all the volcanoes Tajumulco is the most rideable by bike, with gentle pastures and livestock paths that spider up the mountainside. Route finding can be a bit tricky especially in the clouds.

In the Guatemalan civil war in the 70’s and 80’s the rebel army used the mountain as a base and installed over 1000 landmines on the mountain – this was no place to get lost!

4am: Panajachel

We set the alarm for 4am on the day that we were supposed to climb Volcán Tajumulco. Our plan was to to get the first chicken bus out of Panajachel around 5 or right when the sun came up. From there we would do the usual routine – transfer in Solola and hop off early in El Baranco at the intersection of the Panamerican highway. An early morning text confirmed our friends from the capital were on their way, and we had agreed on a rendezvous of 6am sharp.

“Did you tell them how much stuff we’re gonna have with us?” Liz asked me, referring to our enormous fatbikes and backpacks loaded with camping and camera equipment. “They will find room to fit us,” I said confidently, “they’re Guatemalan.” Five people and five bicycles is a lot for any vehicle, not to mention that all of us would be carrying the extra supplies needed for camping.  Liz and I were prepared to spend up to 6 days in the region and tick off the two largest volcanoes in the country: Volcán Tajumulco and Volcán Tacaná.

The question of whether all our bikes and gear would fit was never an issue  for the Guatemalans.
 

Gallery

A long way from home

For this leg of the journey we needed to travel from our home in Panajachel to the the remote northern border that Guatemala shares with Mexico. This involved 2 chicken bus rides and over 6 hours in a cramped pickup truck. When we finally pulled up at the base of the volcano it was early afternoon and we were all stiff, stretching in circles around the car. I was recovering from a sickness that had left me bedridden for 3 days, and had been fighting nausea all morning on the drive. I should have slept in and I was in no condition to be undertaking this serious of a climb. Our departure date was not up for discussion. Travelling along with our friends from the capital would save us over a day of travel over the traditional method (chicken bus). My plan was to recover “on the road” and take it slowly.

Sergio Valdez

Sergio is the man to talk to about riding the volcanoes. He is fifty years old and has been mountain biking before it was called mountain biking. He has pioneered many of the major bike routes in the country including Acatenango, San Marcos and in the Petén. He proudly states that he has climbed every volcano in Guatemala.  Sergio gets out of the city every chance he can get and this year for Semana Santa when he was planning a bicycle assault on Tajumulco, we were more than willing to join him.

Our city friends were much more motivated than we were – their plan was to drive 8 hours to Tajumulco, climb and bike it in a day then drive home the next – Talk about weekend warriors!

Sergio is an amazing source of beta. When we told him about our attempt on Volcán Santiaguito the week prior he just laughed and laughed – pulling out his phone and showing us a webpage with the difficulty ratings of the volcanoes. Santiaguito is the ONE volcano out of all the rest labeled “extreme,” no wonder we had no luck with our massive bicycles!

“Extreme” – go figure
Arriving at Tajumulco

We show up at the base of the volcano in typical Guatemalan fashion: arriving in a fury in our 30k dollar truck. We pull up into a driveway of a farmer and begin barking questions asking him if we can camp and park on his land. The farmers are, as usual, more than happy to oblige and after a bit of bartering we secure a parking space and camping for the night for 10Q a person ($1).

The farmer at the home below the volcano is living  with his family – 6 children, wife and a grandmother in a single tin shack while they work on constructing the house. The children are in the yard playing with rope and eating spam with their hands out of tin cans. The kids are taking turns tying the rope around rocks and dragging them around to a larger rock pile, laughing as they played and worked. The weather is ominous with no view of the massive volcano above us – its summit enshrouded in clouds.

The Upward Slog

Haven’t we been through this before?

My last time up Tajumulco I left at 5am before the afternoon clouds moved in – today we were leaving at 2pm and I knew from a photography standpoint there would be no good views up there. We decided to go anyway. Our Guatemalan friends headed off eager to make time to the summit and Liz and I begrudgingly began pushing our fatbikes at the first incline. We were both exhausted.

About halfway up I started to crack with exhaustion and sat in the meadow defeated. The last time I had climbed this volcano I had done it in a little under 3hrs. I felt like I was treading earth – not getting anywhere. Slowly and steadily I proceeded.

Liz pushes uphill, carrying the gear for the two of us.

Guatemala

A vibrant land and culture

Guatemala is a wild and vibrant country not only in its landscapes, but in its native cultures and Mayan people. Guatemala is one of the most ethnically, culturally, and linguistically diverse countries; with twenty-one different Mayan languages spoken along with Spanish.

Guatemala is one of the poorest countries in Central America, largely a result of the decades-long civil war which ended in 1996. The country has been recovering from the war, but is still considered by many a dangerous place to travel.

Lake Atitlán from the summit of Volcan Atitlán with volcanoes San Pedro (left) and Volcán Tolimán (right)

Guatemala

Adventure Mountain Biking Paradise

by Brendan James

In the past year that I have been in Guatemala I have seen some of the most amazing things in my life. Amazing beauty, incredible poverty, amazing kindness, amazing natural wonders and amazing environmental destruction. Living, working and navigating this country has been a daily adventure for me.

The people of Guatemala are incredible. It was their openness to me that kept me here as a traveler and gave me new comfort in the world unknown. As one of the few gringos in the country racing mountain bikes – they embraced me. Guatemalans have given me hospice in their own homes and taken me into their extended family.

You really are never alone in Guatemala.  The people here are constantly pushed deeper and deeper into the rugged mountains continuing a tradition of farming and subsistence living off the land.

When exploring within country you need to bring your manners as you never know when you will stumble upon the odd campesino workind the feilds or cutting wood. However, usually with a friendly greeting and a bit of small talk they are always willing to help you along your way.

There is no such thing as “too remote” for a village in Guatemala. Roads begin and end in the middle of nowhere- cuttoff by enormous landslides. The infrastructure of the country is webed together in a unofficial transportation network of Tuk-Tuks, Chicken buses, Fletes (trucks) and pickups. You never have to wait more than 15minutes for a ride in Guatemala, and more likely than not they will ask you first where you want to go.

Guatemala is a living anthropological site with an incredible diversity of people and culture. 80% of the population is indigenous and for many spanish is a second language. The density of tribes here is profound. At lake Atitlan it is not uncommon to run into a different traje or traditional clothes from one town to the next – each village speaking their own distinctive language.

Guatemala! Pura Utz Pin Pin!

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The Land of Volcanoes

Nestled between the Caribbean and the Pacific Ocean Guatemala is incredibly mountainous – with sharp ridge lines percolated by deep canyons. Guatemala is home to twenty-two volcanoes, ten of which are over 10,000 feet and seven of which are active. For this project we attempted five of them:

Volcán Santa María

Quetzaltenango

Elevation: 12,375ft
Last Eruption: 2013

Volcán Acatenango

circle_acatenango

Chimaltenango

Elevation: 13,045ft
Last Eruption: 1972

Volcán Santiaguito

circle_santiaguito

Quetzaltenango

Elevation: 8,366ft
Currently Active

Volcán Tajumulco

circle_tajumulco

San Marcos District

Elevation: 13,845ft
(Highest point in Central America)

Volcán Tacaná

circle_tacana

Sibinal

Elevation: 13,320ft
Last Eruption: 1986

View from the summit of Volcan Acatenango, Guatemala’s highest volcanoes in a chain along the Sierra Madre de Chiapas

Fatbikes in a Foreign Land

For this trip we knew we would be taking fatbikes where they had never gone before. We became quite a spectacle in Guatemala where the locals would cry out “Bici Gorda! Bici Gorda!” (fatbike in spanish).  Everyone wanted to pick up the bikes and feel the tires.

Equipment:

For this expedition we brought two Alaskan built Fatback Rhino Bikes with Lauf Carbonara Suspension forks and 4.5″ tires.

The bikes were outfitted with custom made bikepacking equipment by Mayasak in Panajachel.

For the extreme mountain conditions at 13,000ft we brought Gore Bike Wear outerwear and photochromatic Julbo eyeglasses.

Nutritional and hydration support provided by SkratchLabs out of Colorado.

Photography equipment including Panasonic Lumix Micro 4/3rds cameras.

Bikes:

Fatback Rhino
Lauf Carbonara
SRAM XX1
Kenda Juggernaut Tires
Race Face Componentry

Camping

Primus Gravity II MF Stove
GSI Cookware
BigAgnus Jackrabbit 2 Tent
Marmot Sleeping Bags
Thermarest Sleeping pad

Electronics:

2x Panasonic G7 4k Camera2
2x Gopro Hero3 Black Cameras
Various Gopro Mounts
Tripod, Monopod
Garmin 310xt GPS

Luggage:

Deuter Guide Tour 35SL Backpack
Arcteryx NoZone 35 Backpack
Mayasak Frame Bags
Mayasak Headset Bags
Mayasak Seat bag

Clothing:

GORE Bike Wear
Julbo Stunt Glasses
Julbo Aero Photochrromatic Glasses
Julbo TREK Photochromatic Glasses
La Sportiva Down Jacket
La Sportiva Boulder Approach Shoes

Read on...

Exploring Guatemala’s Highest Volcanoes by Fatbike

as featured in Mountain Flyer Magazine : Issue 49

Project Sponsors:

Published: by PICSPORADIC 

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Volcanarchy

[vol·ka·nar·key] n. :: confusion and disorder induced by an unending quest for volcanoes in the vibrant and chaotic country of Guatemala.

“You think we could ride those?” I muse to my partner in crime, fellow gringo expat and professional photographer Brendan James. We rotate our grip on the handrails of the chicken bus as a volcano blurs past. The risk of death by fire on the mountain seems minimal compared to the insane antics of this driver who is talking on his cell phone and gesticulating wildly as he pinwheels around 90 degree turns, the trademark of the local transportation infrastructure. Brendan and I were returning from a successful stage race in Ecuador, and it seemed like the time was right for another mission.

In that chicken bus, we hatch a plan: We will use fat bikes because the wide tires have the best chance on this terrain, reach the volcanoes with a combination of bikepacking and “public transportation” — including chicken buses and hitchhiking in trucks — climb the volcanoes, camp on the summits, and shred down the ash fields.

We spent the next hours sketching routes on a napkin while anchoring ourselves into the seat with Mayans squished on all sides of us holding bushels of tapestries and produce. This culture is nuts… and we fit right in. We would attempt four volcanoes in three weeks: the biggest and most remote in the country.

It was a crazy, wingnut plan. Negotiating the chaos of the country itself with bike, camping and camera gear and days worth of food and water, attempting to ride these enormous forces of nature under full load… it was going to be complete anarchy. Volcanarchy. We had no idea if this could actually be done. It would be our Guatemalan baptism by fire.

— Liz Sampey, professional endurance athlete

Let's begin...

Episodes:

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Meet the Team:

Elizabeth Sampey

Professional Endurance Athlete, Performance Coach, Writer, Speaker

With a background in backcountry skiing and ski mountaineering and nine years of experience as an elite-level cyclist, Liz has found her niche in ultra-endurance mountain bike races, multi-day stage races, and adventure projects that combine travel on bikes, skis, and foot.

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In 2015 Liz discovered fat biking, and her world expanded exponentially. Combining her love of adventure biking and ski mountaineering, her focus turned to using fat bikes to access wild places and high peaks in Colorado’s backcountry. Liz shares her experiences and insights into the human side of the athlete’s journey through speaking at events and clinics and writing for her sponsors’ audiences and her own website: www.speedy-lizard.com

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Brendan James

Athlete, Photographer and Videographer

An accomplished cross-country mountain bike racer and professional photographer, Brendan seeks out adventure and challenge in some of the most remote parts of the world. Brendan combines his creative energy with athletic pursuits and passion for exploration into photography and video that showcases the adventure of travel, place and culture.

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In 2014 Brendan rode his motorcycle south from Colorado and landed in Guatemala two months later, where he has been living since. Over the past year, Brendan has been applying skills with an non-profit in Guatemala, Mayan Families, that works with education and support for impoverished children in the villages surrounding Lake Atitlán.

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Let's go...

MTB Guatemala

A season with Guatemala’s Rowdiest Mountain Bike Club: The Papa Bikers

MTB Guatemala

Guatemala is is pitted with deep canyons, enormous, volcanic terrain, a reckless happy-go-lucky chicken bus culture and for the crazy ‘chapins’ the sport of mountain biking is the perfect fit. Bicyclists fill the streets of the small agricultural pueblos as the preferred mode of transportation and towns hold yearly festivas for cyclists with live bands and TV broadcasting where all ages compete.

Mountain Bike races are run on unofficial single track through coffee fincas and Mayan footpaths. One of the country’s most famous races’ El Reto De Quetzal runs over 3 days connecting Antigua, Panajachel and Xela. Bikers test their balance and grit on steep hiking trails cut into the steep cliffs of Lake Atitlan, and the enormous 10,000ft climb from Santa Cruz La Laguna over Alaska to Quetzaltenango.

This past year I have been privileged to join the amazing cycling culture that has welcomed me as a permanent guest and know me as gringo! Participating in mountain bike races and travecias have brought me all over the country where I can gain a unique perspective on the remote Mayan villages forests and farms that make up this incredible country. Guatemala is mountain bike heaven!

Source: www.atitlanphoto.com

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Published: by PICSPORADIC 

Kingdom Trails Breaking News Video

East Burke, Vermont

When was first contacted by Lilias Ide over at the Kingdom Trail Association for their next summer video series she told me she wanted to do a spoof news report – little did we both know just how far the concept would go.

The final edit features custom graphics and sound – edited from 5 days off shooting where I followed the kingdom trail crew and along as well as filming the scripted newsroom segments.

(YOUTUBE) BREAKING NEWS: KTA Singletrack Update
 
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Equipment / Stats:

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Lumix DMC-G7
GoPro Hero 4
60 hours
2.7k
Adobe Premiere
After Effects
Ziyhun R2 Gimbal
Tascam Audio Recorder

Gallery

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Istanbul

A quick layover in the city bridged between east and west

Published: by PICSPORADIC 

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New York City

the city that doesn’t sleep [AFG_gallery id=’4′]

Published
Categorized as NYC Tagged

By Flight

November was a month of traveling for me as I flew to 6 cities across the east for working with a production company. One of the best things about flying out of LaGuardia airport in NYC is the amazing Arial views you get of the city. New York City Toronto Washington D.C. Cincinnati Detroit Philadelphia Boston [AFG_gallery… Continue reading By Flight

Published
Categorized as Travel