San Ignacio
Near the Guatemalan border. They set the line in a park by the river and shared it with whoever stopped. Logan tells it.
Logan
The last ten miles into San Ignacio, we missed Barcelona against Real Madrid and found Diana instead, at the first shady spot, again. She owned a furniture store and a few properties, and she wanted to know where we were sleeping. We had a campsite in mind, an embankment down by the river. She knew it. Within a minute she offered the terrace.
She took us in as the American misfit sons she never had. There were the Dubon children, soccer, Call of Duty, dinners we were grateful to be asked to. We were recovering from Belize in the high heat. And we set a slackline by a riverside park. We shared the skills and the philosophy with the locals. Interest, amusement, and confusion.
Diana took us to Xunantunich, Stone Woman. The view over the woodlands is stunning. The rooftop hammocks would have been romantic if not for the hundreds of dogs. Ray had earplugs. We left at sunrise, lighter, toward the border.