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Published: December 11th 2006
Cut Stones and Moss
This is the pleasant spot I found at El Ceibal when I took the 'other' trail.When I emerged from the jungles in the Peten I was exhausted and covered from head to toe in a six day layer of mud and sweat, so it was an easy decision to make when I decided to spend a few days relaxing in Flores before I headed south towards Guatemala City and my flight home a week and a half later. I checked back into the hostel in Flores and immediately got a shower. That evening I met up with my friends from the trek for dinner and then we all went our separate ways. The rain was still falling with the same intensity that we experienced during our drive back from Carmelita, which turned the cobblestone streets of Flores into a rapid flowing torrent. Back at the hostel, my bed was the top bunk on an open air mezzanine and the tin
Up the Rio de la Pasion
The boat ride to El Ceibal was an enjoyable journey, especially at the end. roof was just a few feet above my face. The rain fell throughout the night with the intensity of a large waterfall and the resulting roar of the rain dancing on the tin roof coupled with the chilling clouds of mist that filled the air surrounding my bed and slightly dampened my wool blanket made for one of the best nights of sleep I have ever had - My vision of Heaven has similar sleeping arrangements!
The following day I decided to see the town doctor regarding the now more frequent pain coming from the movement of my not-so-welcome travel buddy - The botfly in my leg. It took some doing, but I was finally able to tell the doctor what was wrong (he luckily understood the Latin name for the botfly, which my medical book was nice enough to include). He put me on the table and did exactly what I had done (covering the hole to smother it), but he used a rubberized glue-like substance that covered the hole and hardened in place. He gave me some antibiotics and told me to come back the following day, thus delaying my departure from Flores an additional day. The
Into the Jungle
The journey along the Rio de la Pasion starts out passing through farm after farm, but it eventually turns into dense jungle. following day came and he pronounced the botfly dead and tried to no avail to extract it (he finally showed me what he incorrectly thought was the larva, but it was considerably smaller than the other one I removed) - I am not sure that he had ever actually dealt with a botfly (my guide from El Mirador told me that he had gotten a botfly when he was working in Belize and the doctor in Flores was unable to get rid of it). He did manage to kill it though, so I decided to continue on my trip and get it out later. The following day I boarded a small minivan and headed south towards the town of Sayaxche, a small riverside hamlet surrounded by some world class Mayan ruins and dense tropical jungle.
The road from Flores ended on the north bank of the Rio de la Pasion, a major tributary of the Usumacinta River, just opposite of the village of Sayaxche. From there you have the choice of taking the overcrowded vehicle ferry or an overloaded launch across the river to the town and the continuation of the road. I naturally decided to pile into the
A wall of Green
Here is another picture of the forest along the Rio de la Pasion, just before arriving at El Ceibal. small launch and across we went. I found the hotel that was recommended to me, but I had to search out another when I discovered that a night there would cost more than ten times what I had budgeted per night - I suppose that hotel was reserved for the package tourists who occasionally came to town to see the ruins. An old man approached me in the street and ushered me into his hotel across the street, which was affordable and nice enough and I got a room overlooking the busy waterfront. I had initially planned on going out to the ruins the following day, but I had gotten to Sayaxche earlier than I had expected, so I went down to the waterfront to line up a boat to take me down the Rio de la Pasion to the jungle shrouded ruins of El Ceibal. After talking to several people I found a guy who would take me to the ruins for about $40 - Traveling alone sometimes has its drawbacks and, since the only other traveler I had met in the town was on an absurdly low budget and was going to try and get to the ruins
Welcome to El Ceibal
This is the landing area for people arriving at El Ceibal via the Rio de la Pasion. overland, which I didn’t want to do, I had the boat (and the bill) all to myself. All of my attempts at negotiating an additional hour at the ruins were thwarted, so I settled for the standard two hours and I boarded the long wooden boat with peeling turquoise and red paint and took my seat beneath the tarp awning and we shoved off and headed up river.
The descriptions I had read in the guidebooks and had gotten from fellow travelers regarding the river trip to El Ceibal left in my mind grand images of a narrow river journey beneath the canopy of primeval, uninhabited jungles filled with hidden ruins and jaguars - My overactive imagination was left a little disappointed at first. The Rio de la Pasion was a wide river, not by Amazon or Mississippi standards, but there was a large gap between the banks that gave the rare patches of forest clinging to its banks a distant feeling. We went along the river for over an hour passing home after home and, with the exception of a few kingfishers, I didn’t see any wildlife at all. I knew we had to be getting close to
The Giant Ceiba of El Ceibal
This is the giant tree I came to on the trail into the jungle. Just on the other side of the tree is where the fork in the path is. the ruins and I began getting worried that what I was hoping would be a mysterious ‘lost city’ like site buried deep in pristine jungle was actually going to be surrounded by a token clump of preserved trees. As suddenly as if a light switch was flipped the cleared forest ended and beautiful stands of massive trees rose in an impenetrable wall of vegetation on either side of the slightly narrower river. The river was starting to take on the appearance I had built in my imagination and the monotonous river journey suddenly became exciting again - The wildlife was still illusive, but the sound of silence (excluding the noisy boat motor) that had been the soundtrack of the journey to that point had been replaced with the symphonic sounds of the jungle. We continued up river for nearly twenty minutes and then we came to a small cleared patch of river bank with an ancient looking dugout canoe tied up to the shore and a large sign welcoming us to El Ceibal.
I stepped off of the boat and, after greeting the caretaker, I headed up a small set of stairs into the jungle alone. Everyone I talked
Fungi
I suppose it would be expected to find fungi of all types in the jungle - This is an orange variety. to about El Ceibal stressed that the ravenous clouds of mosquitoes were bad there and to go prepared - To combat the mosquitoes, the caretaker was walking around in a cloud of smoke that came from a bucket full of smoldering jungle debris that was tied to a rope that he was swinging in front of him in a pendulum motion. My idea of prepared was not adequate at El Ceibal. I had thoroughly doused myself with deet, but I think the mosquitoes there thought of deet with the same relish that I give a good pepper sauce and they devoured me! The slime coated stones that paved the path into the trees made for a treacherous walk and the going was slow, but the surrounding forest was beautiful so I didn’t mind. The stairs turned into a sloping path that ended in a jumble of fallen branches and a giant ceiba tree that towered above me and disappeared through the surrounding canopy. I walked around the tree, admiring its large buttressed base, and came to a fork in the road - I had the choice of following the stone-paved path to the left or a ‘natural’, slightly overgrown path
Ruins in the Jungle
This is another shot of my favorite spot at El Ceibal. to the right. I naturally took the path to the right and headed up a large slope into dense forest. I followed the steep path up the side of what appeared to be a large pyramid and then wound my way through several more pyramid-like mounds, all completely overgrown, before I came to my first unmistakably manmade structure - A few stone walls at the top of one of the pyramidal mounds had been excavated and were covered in a blanket of bright green moss. The area was beautiful, in fact, it was possibly my favorite spot at El Ceibal - I stood there and admired the stones and the surrounding wall of forest for a few minutes while I listened to the foreboding chorus of the howler monkeys and watched the strange, bright fire-red centipede-like creatures that were nearly as thick as the fallen leaves on the forest floor. I could have sat there all day, but, as has been the case in several places along my La Ruta Maya, the clock was ticking and I had to move on if I had any hope of seeing the stelae, which El Ceibal is famous for. Finding the stelae was
Hidden Stela
Some of the stelae at El Ceibal were hidden down small trails - I had no problem finding them, it was the main plaza I couldn't find for a while! easier said than done, being that I didn’t have a map of the site and I had taken the path less traveled, but, after several enjoyable wrong turns and a lot of back-tracking, I ascended a large staircase and came to a giant, smooth stela in the middle of the trail and beyond it I could see a large, grass covered clearing with several palm thatched roofs - I had found the main plaza! I quickly explored the plaza and its magnificent stelae, many of which are considered to be the most artistically carved in the Mayan realm, and the mostly un-restored temple platforms that surround the clearing. I also climbed up the only restored structure in the plaza, which was a small pyramid platform with a few rooms on top. My time was up and I had no idea how to get back to the boat, so I asked a group of archaeologists that were digging at the base of one of the stelae (they were also in a cloud of anti-mosquito smoke) how to get out. They directed me to the main entrance of the site, which was not the one I had arrived at, but I did
The Stela at the Top of the Stairs
This is the stela I found at the top of the stairway that lead to the main plaza.
find a giant 3D map of the site, which opened my eyes regarding how massive El Ceibal was, and, with a little help from another caretaker, I found the path to the boat. I walked quickly through several more major structure groups, all un-restored, as I followed the white PVC pipe that I was told to follow and then I came to a slimy, stone paved path that, as I suspected, took me to the giant ceiba tree at the fork in the trail. Had I taken the main path I would have had a lot more time to explore the main portion of the site, but I would have missed out on the amazing little place of cut stone and moss that I had found off in the jungle - I think I made the right decision! I strolled back to the river-side dock and was greeted with a smile from my boat captain and the caretaker, who were engrossed in a conversation that suggested that they were old friends. I was nearly forty-five minutes late, but they didn’t mind, in fact, they asked me if I needed more time to see the rest of the site - I
The Stelae of El Ceibal (1)
Many of the stelae in the main plaza were at the base of the structures and some were standing alone, but they were all beautiful. did need more time, but it would have been measured in days not hours, so I said, “no”, and we headed down to the boat and we shoved off and pointed our bow towards Sayaxche. My time in Guatemala was rapidly coming to an end, so, despite the abundance of world class Mayan sites in the forests surrounding Sayaxche, I had to move on - El Ceibal was the last Mayan Ruin on my itinerary.
We arrived back in Sayaxche ahead of a large storm that we had been racing from El Ceibal and I thanked my boat captain and stepped back on shore. As I walked up to my hotel I briefly entertained the thought of hiring a boat and captain for a few weeks and to keep going down river on a grand river adventure to the other nearby sites of Aguateca and Dos Pilas and then continue on to the Usumacinta River and the sites of Altar de Sacrificios and Piedras Negras several days journey away - As much as I wanted to do that trip, I decided to save it for another day when I could round up a few more people to go along
The Stelae of El Ceibal (2)
Many of the stelae in the main plaza were at the base of the structures and some were standing alone, but they were all beautiful. and help cover the costs, besides if I didn’t show up at the airport when I told my mom I would she would kill me.
That evening I went out and walked around the town and grabbed some dinner. It surprised me that there were so few foreign travelers in Sayaxche (I counted myself and one other), since the area had so much to offer. I headed back to the room and I sat on my balcony watching the activities on the waterfront while I read and enjoyed yet another massive rainstorm. My neighbor was the other traveler in town and he was from Italy - We had a broken conversation in Spanish since he didn’t know any English and I didn’t know any Italian, but we managed to understand each other. Later that evening, I woke up with a start and as I was lying in bed, I got the strange sensation that I was not alone. I flipped on the headlamp that I had around my neck and found myself staring into the beady little eyes of a giant cockroach who was sharing my pillow. Naturally, I jumped out of bed and turned on the lights, which
The Stelae of El Ceibal (3)
Many of the stelae in the main plaza were at the base of the structures and some were standing alone, but they were all beautiful. sent my not-so-welcome bed buddy scurrying into the darkness under the bed. I briefly laid down on the other bed in the room, but, when I discovered that it was completely covered in an ocean of flowing little ants, I moved back to my previous bed and went back to sleep, leaving the light on. Surprisingly, I was able to get a few more hours of sleep, but I was relieved when, at 4:30 am, I heard the noise of the bus in the street below as it drove around looking for passengers to take to Coban. Though I had originally planned on taking a bus later in the day, I quickly gathered all of my stuff together and I headed down to the street and squeezed myself into a tiny space between several of the other passengers on the bus and, after collecting several more passengers (the buses aren’t full until a few people have to stand), I said farewell to Sayaxche.
I watched the dark, wet, jungle road wind by for several hours, illuminated by the headlights of the bus and then by an early dawn light, and I arrived in Coban, amid a light rain shower,
The Stelae of El Ceibal (4)
Many of the stelae in the main plaza were at the base of the structures and some were standing alone, but they were all beautiful. just in time for breakfast. Along the way we made several stops along the dark road to pick up machete-wielding men, bound for a day of hard work in the fields, or school teachers heading to school. We also passed by several beautifully scenic areas including Candelaria Cave, which was a place off of the normal tourist circuit that was highly recommended to me by a guide I met at Tikal - I decided I didn’t have enough time left to stop, so I put the caverns on my ever growing list of reasons to return to Guatemala. Once in Coban, I walked to the corner of 3rd and 4th, where the hostel was supposedly located, and found a very nice and very locked up residence. I concluded that the hostel must have closed down and I headed to the town square to find another place to stay. I got a little more confused when I arrived at the plaza and discovered that the church was on the wrong side of the square. I sat down on a bench and started studying my map and that is when I discovered my error - I had gone to the wrong corner
The Stelae of El Ceibal (5)
Many of the stelae in the main plaza were at the base of the structures and some were standing alone, but they were all beautiful. of 3rd and 4th, apparently in my sleep-deprived stupor I had mixed up the ‘calle’ and ‘avenida’, which put me on the wrong side of town. After I corrected my mistake I quickly found the hostel, which was housed in a beautiful, rust-red colonial style building with a large, garden filled courtyard, and I got a room. I sat down at a small table in the hostel’s patio restaurant and had a great breakfast and a cup of delicious, locally grown coffee while a nearby fireplace cut the damp, early-morning chill - It was a perfect way to spend the morning. I spent the rest of the day exploring Coban and planning my outing to Semuc Champey for the following day. That evening I met a girl from Canada named Anna who was also going to Semuc Champey, so we decided to join forces and head out there together the following morning. I spent the rest of the damp evening sitting near the roaring fire sharing stories from the road with other travelers and then I headed to my room and went to sleep.
The morning started early with breakfast and then, after paying for another night at the
The Stelae of El Ceibal (6)
Many of the stelae in the main plaza were at the base of the structures and some were standing alone, but they were all beautiful. hostel and putting some stuff in the safe, we set off through the wet streets of Coban in search of a minivan bound for the small town of Lanquin, the gateway to Semuc Champey. After asking for direction from several people and getting several different answers as to which direction we needed to go, we found (I suppose they found us) a small garage with a van that was about to leave and we squeezed into the back seat with a few other people and we headed down the cobblestone road into the damp fog that blanketed the countryside surrounding Coban. After what seemed like an eternity of winding, nausea-inducing mountain roads we descended out of the misty mountains into a lovely green valley of coffee plantations and cultivated fields and then we came to a stop in the picturesque little hamlet of Lanquin. We did a quick walk around town and then we headed to the road that leads to Semuc and we flagged down a truck full of Guatemalan tourists, already in their swimsuits and flip-flops, and we climbed into the standing-room-only bed and we were off again. Our Guatemalan companions were hilarious and the ride was an
The Stelae of El Ceibal (7)
Many of the stelae in the main plaza were at the base of the structures and some were standing alone, but they were all beautiful. adventure to say the least - We had to stop at one point to hack away a tree that was blocking the road and we had to hold on tight to the truck’s framework to avoid falling out on one of the many steep hills and, as I nearly learned the hard way, we had to always face forward to avoid the low hanging branches that were constantly vying for the chance to shave a couple of inches off of our height. We were passed at one point by one of the hermetically-sealed ‘tourist’ shuttles that we had considered taking from Coban and as they passed I took a quick glance around at the smiling, laughing faces of my companions in the back of the truck and I felt the fresh breeze on my face and I knew that we made the right choice regarding our mode of transportation. We arrived at Semuc Champey’s visitor center and we headed through the entrance and into the park.
Semuc Champey was an undeniably beautiful place of waterfalls and cascading swimming holes with a strange, but interesting geology. The spring-fed pools are nestled in the bottom of a sheer-walled canyon and are
The Mini-Pyramid
This was the only restored structure that I found at El Ceibal. It was located in the center of the main plaza. surrounded by dense forest. A large river flows down through the canyon, but, just before the rushing water reaches the cascading pools, the entire torrent inexplicably disappears only to reappear again at the base of the last cascade out of the pools. The result is a series of pools filled with crystal-clear, emerald-turquoise water that slowly flows down hill in a stair-step-like series of cascades - I gleaned all of this from the impressive photographs I had seen of the place and the informative signs posted along the trails. Normally the muddy river disappears completely into its underground passageway without polluting the crystal-clear pools with its silt, but we arrived at the end of a week of non-stop rain and all of the pools were an unwelcoming, murky brown. Apparently the river was flowing at an unusually high volume, which allowed a portion of its silt-filled water to escape from its impending passage through the subterranean darkness of the tunnel and to mingle with the spring water in the pools. We were not going to be deterred by the overcast skies and the murky water, so we donned our swimsuits and we jumped into the top pool. The water was
Great Camouflage!
We found this guy right as we entered Semuc Champey. cold but refreshing and we had to keep swimming to stay warm. We slowly made our way from pool to pool, descending each cascade as carefully as possible - At one place I found a beautiful stone chute filled with rushing water and I decided to slide down it, but the rock in the chute was not as smooth as it appeared and I received a spanking of epic proportions. At another cascade we were presented with a five foot jump down to get to the next pool, which in the mud-brown water was not an overly intelligent thing to do, so, with the water rushing over me, I climbed down the waterfall and I lowered myself into the pool below. Once I confirmed that the water was both deep enough and obstruction free Anna jumped in. We swam over to the edge of the pool, which was the last one, and we gazed down over the 20+ foot drop off to the river below. I had not yet read the signs explaining the geology of the area, so I remember feeling an intense confusion when I first looked down over the edge of the slow-flowing cascade and saw the
Semuc Champey
These pictures are not nearly as impressive as the 'standard' picture of Semuc, but we had less than ideal conditions. massive, whitewater torrent below - I knew there was no way that all of that water was coming from the pools, but I hadn’t even considered that the river flowed under us. The chill was getting to me, so we changed back into our dry clothes and we explored the rest of the area on foot. I am glad I visited Semuc Champey, but a little sad that the conditions that normally make the place a magical destination were not present - I suppose I will have to come back next time.
Back at the visitor’s center we purchased a half watermelon, which served as our lunch, and then we found a truck headed back to town - Surprisingly, the same group of people that we rode to Semuc with were with us again for the return journey to Lanquin. We arrived back in town two hours before the last minivan was supposed to leave for Coban and we sat down in the bread shop that the van had dropped us off at that morning and we waited. Two hours and a bag full of bread later, the owner of the bread shop assured us that the van would
The Swimming Holes
The conditions were bad, but the place was still pretty and we were glad we made the journey out there. arrive at any time, but when we asked him the same question a half hour later he told us that the van wasn’t running until morning - We were stranded in Lanquin! One of the things I love most about traveling is the forced spontaneity that results from situations like being stranded in a small town hours away from your backpack and money. Often these situations become highlights of your journey if you go into them with the right mindset. We had both started suspecting that we would be spending the evening in Lanquin, so we could only laugh when our suspicions were confirmed. We knew that our backpacks would be enjoying the cozy rooms that we had back at the hostel in Coban, so we just had to find a place for us to stay. We flipped through the guide book we had with us to the pages devoted to Lanquin and there we found a small list of places to stay including one that had a cloud drawn around it and a note in the margin that said it had been highly recommended - The nightly conversations in hostels throughout the world often result in recommendations for certain
The River Re-emerges
The river disappears into a tunnel beneath the pool of Semuc Champey and this is where they re-emerge. I was a little confused as to where all the water was coming from before I read the informative signs. places or activities, which are always noted in the guidebooks with clouds or stars (or occasionally with a big ‘X’ if it is a place to avoid at all costs.) and it turned out that that particular recommendation was right on. We set off down the rain-soaked, cobblestone streets in search of the hostel and, after asking several people for directions, we rounded a corner about ten minutes walk out of town and passed through a wooden gate below a sign that told us we had arrived. On the other side of the gate we found a large grassy field that sloped down to the river’s edge with a series of narrow, stone paved walkways that connected several rustic, palm-thatched cabanas that were built on elevated platforms above the grassy slope. A backdrop of rolling, partially forested mountains and a nearly unbroken blanket of green completed the scene and made for one of the most stunning locations for a hostel that I have encountered. Luckily there were a few beds left in one of the dorms, which we quickly snatched up and then we spent the remainder of the evening relaxing down by the river in the hostel’s bar area.
The Road from Semuc
This is one of the many wonderful views that we feasted our eyes on as we rode in the back of the small truck between Lanquin and Semuc Champey. The bar, which also served as the dining area and the community area, was in a two story, open-air building with a palm thatched roof. There were several nice tables and a few hammocks and the place was packed with travelers from all over the world. We spent the two hours before dinner engrossed in a competitive Trivial Pursuit game with a few Australians and, just as I was catching up, we had to end the game and go to the dinner table. Everyone staying at the hostel gathered at a large, candle-lit table and we enjoyed a tasty two course meal and lots of great conversation. After dinner we sat in the hammocks and listened to the river rush by and we talked for a while and then we headed up the hill to the dorm and brought an end to our action-packed day.
I woke up early the following morning and I went outside and took a walk through the mist-soaked grass to the edge of the river and then I sat in one of the hammocks, grateful that we had missed the bus and discovered that little paradise that we would have otherwise missed. After breakfast
A Hidden Paradise
This is the place we stayed when we got stranded in Lanquin. It was a great place with a wonderful atmosphere - I am glad we missed the van! we said good-bye to everyone and headed up to the road to meet the first bus of the day. We hadn’t been standing on the curb for five minutes when a small ice cream delivery truck came around the corner and slowed and the driver asked us if we needed a ride to Coban. Not trusting in the minivan situation, we accepted the ride and climbed into the cab and said farewell to Lanquin. The driver was a great guy, so as he negotiated the rain-slicked hairpin turns of the winding mountain roads at speeds approaching the speed of light, we discussed a broad range of topics including everything from things to do around his home town on the outskirts of Guatemala City and his job to the state of affairs in Guatemala - His answer on the latter seemed to be a common belief throughout Guatemala, “It is better now that the war is over.” The ride was a blessing in disguise, because we learned a little about some of the areas of Guatemala that we were not going to be visiting this time around and we got back to Coban in a lot more comfort than we would
Ana Maria
Here is one of the many chicken buses that ply Guatemala's roads. This one is named after my sister-in-law. have in the minivan (if the truck was approaching light speed then the normal minivan ride would equate to about five times the speed of light!) We made it back to the hostel in Coban about mid morning and a day late, but we had an excellent little adventure.
I only had five days left in Guatemala and there was still one place on my must see list that I hadn’t been to, so I boarded a bus out of Coban bound ultimately for Lago Atitlan. Anna and I were headed in the same direction, so we ended up traveling together for the next several days, which proved to be a nice break from the solitude of solo travel. We took a circuitous route to the lake, making stops in Guatemala City and Antigua along the way. Just outside of Coban the road headed up into the mist-shrouded mountains and passed the Biotopo del Quetzal, which is one of the last sanctuaries in Guatemala where you have a chance of spotting the streaming emerald feathers and red belly of Guatemala’s national bird, the resplendent quetzal, a bird both revered and doomed by its intense beauty and secretive habits. I
Lago Atitlan
This is my first view of the lake that I have grown to love. had intended on stopping at the reserve, but time was against me - Another item for my already enormous list of reasons to return! Our first bus dropped us off at the bus station in Guatemala City and we donned our backpacks and set off through the notoriously dangerous streets (they seemed fine to me) of the Guatemala’s capitol city in search of transport to Antigua. After passing through a busy market area that seemed to have more armed troops guarding the streets than it had shoppers, we reached the spot that the guidebook had directed us to only to find out that the busses hadn’t left from there in years. After a short cab ride, we were dropped us off at the proper station on the other side of town and we found what we were looking for, yet another undeniably Guatemalan symbol, the chicken bus.
I had not been on one of Guatemala’s famous chicken busses yet, so I wasn’t sure what to expect. Our bus, like all of the others that filled the streets, was a surplus school bus straight out of my childhood, only it was painted in a bright kaleidoscope of colors that would
The View from the Iguana Perdida
This is the view of the lake from the roof of the hostel in Santa Cruz. have been the highlight of any car show back home - I do believe that if the school busses of my youth had chosen similar paint schemes over the boring egg-yolk yellow and black that they were painted I would have looked forward to getting on the bus every morning! I was surprised to find that we were the only two people on the bus (other than the driver and the screamer?) and I was a little disappointed, thinking that I wasn’t going to get the full chicken bus experience - I had nothing to worry about! After twenty minutes of incessant, eardrum-shattering shouts of, “Aaantigua!, Antigua!, Antiguaaaaaa!” coming out of the ‘screamer’s’ mouth, accompanied by the blast of the bus’s air-horn, we had filled up, or so I thought, and we headed out of the city. I was sharing a seat designed for two children with two other adults and a few children and all of our belongings and the isles were standing room only, yet we continued to take on passengers! The maniacal driver piloted his rocket-ship at a pace that would have terrified even the craziest of racecar drivers, weaving in and out of the traffic at
On Lago Atitlan
This is one of the spectacular views we got as we boated our way to San Marcos. about twice the speed of the surrounding cars, as if we were going down hill with no brakes, but the frequent stops to gather more passengers suggested that the brakes worked just fine. I was enjoying my ride, but it was the same feeling of adrenalin-pumping enjoyment that I received when I went skydiving with my brother years ago - As usual, what was an exciting adventure to me was daily life for the Guatemalans that were calmly filling the bus and paying no attention to the driver’s repeated attempts at carnage. I made an alarming discovery as we headed down the large hill into Antigua: Our driver was one of the cautious ones! We were headed down the hill at the usual pace when another chicken bus rocketed by us in the wrong lane, sending the oncoming traffic scrambling for a place to safely pull off the road. There was no opening in our lane for the bus to pull into, so he just stayed in the other lane forcing car after car off of the road before disappearing around a blind corner. I was thankful that we were not on that bus and I was fully expecting to
A Lazy Day
We spent an entire morning sitting on this beach reading and soaking up the sun. find death and destruction just around the corner, but, surprisingly, there was not a single collision! We hopped off of the bus at Antigua’s market and went in search of a place to stay for the evening and then we found a shuttle to Lago Atitlan for the following morning. Despite the overly touristy feel of Antigua, it felt good to be back and I spent the day walking through the picturesque streets and browsing through the shops and market stalls in search of souvenirs. Early the following morning we were off again, headed towards Lago Atitlan.
Lago Atitlan is a beautifully scenic place of deep blue-green water surrounded by a ring of volcanoes that steeply rise from the shore-line up into the clouds in a series of jagged, conical peaks. Along the shores of the lake there are several small towns of varying character - Some very touristy, others very traditional with the rest falling somewhere in between. I spent three glorious days exploring the towns around the lake and just relaxing - Something I hadn’t really had a chance to do for over a month. We were graced with blue skies and warm temperatures, which necessitated several
From the Shore of the Lake
Lago Atitlan is a beautiful place and a great place to do nothing. This is one of the many scenes from the shore. swims in the chilly, high-altitude water and many hours sitting in the sun reading or just taking in the scenery. We spent the first night in Santa Cruz La Laguna at a fairly busy hostel, which was fun, but we decided to move on to San Marcos La Laguna the following morning in search of a more relaxing atmosphere. San Marcos was a lovely little town nestled in a forest-like stand of fruit trees. I spent hours strolling along the shady, deserted paths beneath the trees, occasionally coming to a hidden café or hotel, or sitting on the grassy bank of the lake watching the activity (or lack of activity) on the water and taking in the beautiful scenery - San Marcos was the perfect place to relax! The shady hamlet took on a completely different and very odd feel at night - It was very late and I was tucked into bed drifting off to sleep when a loud speaker shattered the silence with a strange, melodic chanting in an unfamiliar language (kind of like a call to worship). The chanting went on for a long time and was finally replaced with silence and I was able to drift
From the Shore of the Lake (2)
Lago Atitlan is a beautiful place and a great place to do nothing. This is one of the many scenes from the shore. off to sleep. Later in the evening a new party erupted, this time it was the stray dogs’ time for revelry. There were hundreds of dogs roaming the streets of San Marcos and they all started barking and howling at the same time. The haunting sounds came and went in waves, as if the dogs were running back and forth from one side of the town to the other, occasionally a fight would break out, but in the end it sounded like the dogs were enjoying themselves. I managed to drift off to sleep despite their raucous party. The next morning the shady paths were littered with exhausted dogs that seemed to have partied until they collapsed, some of them were dyed blue, green or red - I wasn’t able to get any more information regarding the happenings of the previous night, so I guess it will remain a mystery.
We spent our last night on the lake at the massive town of Panajachel, a place full of tourists and souvenir stalls. It was definitely too crowded, but there were several good food options and lots of interesting shops to explore. Early the following morning we said good-bye to the beautiful Lago Atitlan and returned to Antigua. Back in Antigua I organized my transport to the airport for the following morning and then I did some last minute souvenir shopping and took one last walk around town. I reached the main square and for the first time the volcano overlooking the city was clear of clouds and the lighting was perfect, it would have made a great picture, BUT, when I reached into my bag for the camera, I pulled out something that more closely resembled an M&M - I had mistakenly left a chocolate bar I had purchased in Panajachel in the bag and I now had a chocolate covered camera. I could only laugh, the day’s heat had gotten me and not only did I loose the use of my camera, but I also wasted a delicious bar of mint-chocolate that I had had to use a lot of will-power not to devour back in Pana. We decided to have dinner in one of the higher-end tourist restaurants that night. The following morning the shuttle arrived to whisk me off to the airport and Anna to the bus station - I was headed home and her adventures were taking her down to Nicaragua.
That brings my journey through Mexico, Belize, Honduras and Guatemala to an end, for now. It was a wonderful adventure into the unknown. I learned a lot, I squashed several misconceptions I had of the area, I fulfilled several life-long dreams and made several new friends. I know I will return to the Mayan jungles in the future, because my childhood interest in the Maya has been rekindled in a big way and there is a lot left to see and learn. I felt sad as I boarded the plane in Guatemala City, not because I was headed home, but because I was leaving the wonderful life on the road that I have grown to love. I ran into some un-pleasantries with one of the customs inspectors in Atlanta who had a hard time understanding the non-typical lifestyle I am currently living. I answered all of his questions honestly: “Were are you coming from?”, “Guatemala”, “How long were you gone?”, “Four and a half Months.”, “What was the purpose of your trip?”, “I was exploring the world that I live in.”, “What do you do for work?”, “I am currently unemployed.”, (in an angry, slightly elevated tone) “WHERE DID YOU GET THE MONEY FOR YOUR TRIP?!”, in a calm tone I went into my previous job in Antarctica and then he reluctantly let me pass, but he was still steaming - I suppose he was used to questioning the standard two-week traveler, or maybe he thought I was a potential drug smuggler, but I hope he is more polite with visitors than he was with me. I met my family at the curb outside of baggage claim and I headed home.
I will be back on the road in January, so there are more adventures to come.
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Mom
non-member comment
Botfly treatment
Son, you forgot to tell them that Vicks Vapor Rub is perfect for smothering botflies and also aids in their removal. Its a miracle product. Its amazing that people who live staid, quiet lives don't want to hear about such things as botflies - especially over dinner. Go figure! Carry on bravely, Son. Oh, I saw a great bumper sticker tonight. It said, "Be a hero! Fight global warming." Good idea, huh?