The Most Amazing Travel Day of Our Lives (so far at lest!)

Note: this entry is pretty long....you'll need a few minutes.

Where to begin? Have you ever had a day when you thought to yourself that it just couldn’t get any better…that you were right on the edge of reality and would not be likely to experience anything like it again. Well, we had a day just about like that – one that will stay in our memories for a long time.

We spent Valentine ’s Day in Antigua, over nighting between Lake Atitlan to Coban. On Tuesday morning we boarded a tourist shuttle van and said good-bye to our friends at the Casa Bougainvillea and our hostess Flor. On board the van we met a fellow from Vancouver, the only other passenger. Umberto was an Italian journalist who had lived all over the world and was currently living in Vancouver working on a start up magazine about Cuba of all things. He was a very interesting fellow and spoke fluent Spanish which was to be a real help in the next few days. (It’s amazing how many Canadians we keep meeting. We have run into several people from Calgary, Saskatoon, Peace River, Edmonton, etc. One couple from Saskatoon were good friends with friends of Dee! It certainly is a small world.)

We arrived in Coban in mid afternoon and checked into the “best” hotel in this small, non-touristy city. It was fine and we had a couple of enjoyable nights there. We arranged a tour for the next day to a place called Semuc Champey. Our guide book said it was worth the 2.5 hr drive, the last 22km over the worst road we’ve yet encountered traveling at no more than 20km/hr, to see the “idyllic pools”. The first 90 mins was a scenic drive passing mountainous terrain covered in coffee plantations, maize fields and the omnipresent jungle. At one point we passed through a small town where the once-a-month market was being held. This meant that stalls had been set up on both sides of the road and the passage was barely wide enough for a vehicle. Halfway through the town we encountered three large trucks and a couple of cars in convoy coming the other way. We stopped almost bumper to bumper with the first on-coming truck and the 5 or 6 cars behind us did the same on our tail. After a few minutes of “You back up. No YOU back up!”, we finally got the cars behind us to back up all the way to the edge of the village where we were able to park on the side of the road and thus let the truck convoy through.

A few miles later the pavement abruptly ended and we were suddenly inching along a cobble/stone/dirt road with bumps and potholes galore, descending into a long, steep-sided valley. After 11 kms we came to the small hill town of Lanquin where for a few hundred meters we were able to have a respite from the constant jostling, shaking and jarring we’d been experiencing for half an hour. But we were soon back on the road which was little more than a mountain track. On some of the steeper slopes, two strips of concrete had been laid with deep serrations to provide traction for vehicles. The road must be virtually impassible in the wet season.

Eleven bone-jarring kms later, we crossed over a small suspension bridge on the very picturesque Rio Cahabon and came to a stop at a small visitor centre. Our driver and guide for the day, Thomas, who spoke no English, asked us if we wanted to go directly to the pools or “walk” up to the look out point for a view from above. Despite the sign saying the 1.2km climb was “dificil” we opted for the hike … and thank goodness we did. The journey up the mountain through dense jungle was challenging but in many places wooden stairs had been built to climb the steep cliff face. But suffice it to say that we were all sweating by the time we made it to the top. And what a view awaited us.

We stepped out of the jungle to a small platform build right on the edge, and projecting over, a cliff…1000 ft straight down to the jungle floor below. And as we stepped onto the platform, we were presented with one of the most spectacular natural sights I, for one, have ever seen in my life. There spread out below us was the deep canyon-like valley, covered in dense jungle. Dozens of different palms, mahogany trees, iron wood trees, the huge ceiba trees, the national tree of Guatemala, and vines of all manner presented a scene of incredible beauty. And at the bottom of the valley the spectacular Semuc Champey pools lay glistening in the bright sunlight.

The pools are fed by a mighty torrent gushing through a tight canyon which spills into a series of large cascading ponds. Each of the 5 or 6 pools is the most incredible aquamarine color and is surrounded by banks of tiger-skin orange from the minerals in the water. Small rushing waterfalls connected each of the pools that descended to our right down the valley. We all stood in awe, stunned by the natural beauty of the place. It is impossible to describe what we were seeing in words and even my pictures do not capture the majesty of this incredible display of Nature’s paintbrush.

After a few minutes spent gawking and shaking our heads, we reluctantly began our descent. We continued along the mountain path, rapidly descending to the valley floor. We arrived at the pools and crossed a number of small rivulets to finally sit down my the rushing water of the upper gorge. We then made our way to the first of the cascading pools. We had been wearing our bathing suits in anticipation of this moment and it didn’t take us long to gingerly make our way across the slippery banks and slip into the cool water for a wonderful refreshing dip. Umberto and I found a deep pool in the second pond and dived in from the strip of orange rock dividing the two. What a rush to swim under water in this pristine, cool jungle pool, the steep, verdant cliffs rising up on either side to an azure sky.

After sitting in the sun to dry off for a while, we donned our shoes and were back down the trail, this time following the river and avoiding the strenuous climb that had brought us here.

After a boxed lunch provided by the hotel, we drove back to the bridge we had crossed on our arrival and pulled up at a small hut where several tourists were hanging around. Thomas took us along to meet the proprietor of our next adventure that day. A rotund and smiling Latino of 5o or so, lay swimming in a hammock (a favorite pastime of many “workers” here). He smiled a welcome to and spoke in Spanish about our upcoming cave tour.

But before we entered the cave, he said “swim, swim” a couple of times and led us over to the banks of the river. I felt this was a little strange as we’d just been swimming, but I was soon to discover that he wasn’t saying “swim”…it was “swing!” There tied to a bush was a swing with two long ropes disappearing into the tops of a tall tree, the bottom ends of the rope connected to a two-inch diameter bamboo seat. The man put the bamboo seat under his bum and launched himself from the steep bank. He immediately swung in a huge arc out into the middle of the river, returning like the pendulum of a clock to deftly alight on the bank. He then looked over at us and motioned us to try. One of two other young fellows on the tour stepped up and launched himself, safely returning to dry land. I was next and as I pushed off, felt and incredible sense of exhilaration as I went hurtling out over the river. I bumped my heals on the ground as I swung back, not having heeded his constant instructions to keep your feet high. One by one each of the others repeated this exciting swing. And, when we’d all had a turn, our host smiled a motioned for us to walk with him further along the bank where we found yet another swing, this one higher up the bank and with longer ropes. Obviously we were in for an even bigger rush. So again each of us in turn accepted his invitation to have a go! All that is, except Sue, who was somewhat daunted by the prospect. When the guy asked why she wouldn’t do it, she put her hands up into her arm pits, flapped her arms and made a clucking sound, ending with “pollo…pollo” We all had a laugh at here chicken imitation.

As we discovered, this swing ritual is really a test. Anyone who wouldn’t do the swing, was not up to the cave tour. The host said it was a “bit challenging” (words that proved to be the understatement of all time) and that you needed to (pardon the expression) “have the balls to do the cave tour”. Despite Sue’s reluctance to do the second test, she was allowed to accompany us and the seven of us made our way up a short climb to where we encountered a deep cleft in the cliff face.

We were greeted by a young lad of perhaps 16 years. He was dressed in bathing suit and was to be our cave guide.

Now we, like most of you probably have been on cave tours before. You know the scene…a boat through a sparkling cavern or a walk along a path, admiring the stalactites, stalagmites and formations bathed in multi-colored lights. Well forget all that! Our first clue to what was ahead was to have to remove our shoes and don old canvass runners for the excursion. Then our young guide gave each of us an 8 inch white candle which he lit from a bic lighter (which he subsequently wrapped in plastic and stuck in his head band). He the ushered our small procession from the light of day into the cave.

The cave is a 2km cavern that was only discovered 4 years ago and is thus not even in the guide books yet as an attraction. It is filled with rushing water the whole length and as we entered the dark interior, we immediately stepped into the thigh-deep stream strewn unevenly with rocks and boulders. We carefully walked along for about 50 meters, our candles held high, providing the only light to see the cave formations and, more importantly, the water and rocks at our feet. We soon reached the first of many sections of the cave we were to encounter where the water became deep (how deep we don’t know but it was certainly over our heads) and we had to swim about 50 meters until the stream became shallower.

Now even with two hands it would be challenging to negotiate the slippery cavern and total darkness, but having to keep your head and candle above water required the use of one hand only for swimming. I could do this reasonably well, but the girls and Dee especially (who admits to being frightened of water) are not strong swimmers. Dee tried putting her candle in her mouth and dog paddling along, but it was only seconds before her candle went out. We all made it to the shallower part but several candles had to be relit.

We then continued on through the darkness, carefully feeling our way when we were able to walk, and swimming as best we could through the frequent pools. And as well as constantly holding up your candle you had to be careful not singing your hair. I and some of the other stronger swimmers took candles on several occasions from the girls allowing them to swim unencumbered.

After several pools we heard the sound of a rushing waterfall and soon came on a torrent cascading from above and just visible in the light of our collective candles. We then saw with some trepidation that our next leg involved a climb up a metal ladder roped precariously to a wall. One by one we carefully ascended the ladder to small ledge twenty feet above the cave floor where we crawled along to the next pool. A second and more difficult ladder ascent followed some time later and I was not sure we would all be able to proceed. But everyone managed the difficult ascent.

We continued on, often have to contort our bodies to fit through small crevices while all the time trying to crack your skull on some unseen protrusion, scrape a need on the rough rocks, or dunk your candle into the subterranean river. We were all extremely challenged by this ascent through the darkness, but almost unbelievable the adrenaline coursing through our bodies gave us an incredible high. We couldn’t stop smiling and shaking our heads in the wonder of it all. When we finally reached the end of the cave after about 90 mins, we sat on a ledge where a huge sombrero-like formation protruded from the cave wall. We were tired but excited at having survived the challenge so far.

After a few minutes we started back down the cave. Our candles were over halfway burned and I wasn’t sure we would have enough to get back with some light….what a horrific situation that would be, though the young guide did have a couple of backup candles sticking out of his headband like feathers in an Indian headdress.

The return was equally exciting and actually, I felt, more dangerous. At one point we veered of the return path to where the stream gushed through an opening in the rock. As we later learned, we were about to bypass a ladder descent by going down this shoot of water. The young guide took each of our candles in turn, told us to sit on a ledge with one hand on a protruding formation. He then literally pushed you off into rushing water and total darkness. My heart leapt into my mouth has I fell the few feet into the unknown, thankfully plunging into a deep pool instead of sharp rocks! I stroked upward to the surface my heart pounding. I was the second to go the shoot, and I had no idea how the girls would react, but in quick succession they came screaming down the short waterfall into the pool. We couldn’t stop laughing and saying “what a rush!!” over and over. I don’t know if we were excited from the thrill or at the fact that we were still alive! Our guide somehow descended without dousing the candles and with lighted tapers we were off again.

As I said, the return journey was just as difficult as the ascent and we were all very glad to see a glimmer of light emanating from the cave’s entrance. We let our a yelp for joy as we stepping our into the jungle and sunlight.

This excursion was exhilarating to say the least, but in retrospect was on the very edge of extreme danger. If one of us had fallen, a broken leg may have been the least of our injuries. How they would transport an injured individual out is beyond me. A trip like this would be absolutely impossible in any country with a modicum of government regulations. There was absolutely no safety precautions whatsoever and I’m sure, no recourse should you be injured. (Are you going to sue the owner who is probably making ten dollars a day?). And, I wouldn’t be surprised if the government steps in to close this place down if someone is seriously injured or even killed here. But in the meantime, we had an experience unlike we have ever had before and are not likely to have again (though see the next blog installment for a reasonable facsimile of this day – in interest and excitement at least!!)

So, our bodies and minds still buzzing from our high, we headed back down to the river, for the third of our three “events” on this day’s excursion.

We removed our cave shoes, our own shoes having been taken back to our van by Thomas, a walked very gingerly up the river bank passed some rapids carrying our next mode of transportation….tire inner tubes. We entered the water, sat on the tubes and were off on a fabulous floating tour down the river. After negotiating the rapids where we scraped our bums on the stones in the shallows, and Rose got stuck on some high ground, we float serenely done down the Rio Cahabon, passing along the beautiful jungle covered banks, past huge jagged rocks in the river, and under the suspension bridge we crossed earlier in the day. We made landfall at a small guest house on the banks of the river, just as the late afternoon sun was beginning to turn the jungle to a soft orange color.

We clambered out of our tubes and up the bank to our waiting van.

What a day we had had. The splendor of the Semac Champey pool; the pure adrenaline rush of the caves by candlelight, and the final relaxing float which aloud us to come down from the incredible high of the cave tour. But wait….there’s more to come.

We started back on the bumpy road, passing through Lanquin and on towards the tarmac of the main road. But about a km before we hit pavement, Thomas pulled the van over, jumped out and reported we had a flat tire (not surprising on this road and I’d almost been expecting it). What I hadn’t expected was the sight of the spare “tire” that Thomas threw down from the rack on top of the van. This thing was about 25,000 kms beyond its useful live. There was no tread whatsoever. It was grey and white from wear, not the usual black of most tires. The steel radial threads were exposed in several places, and there were long threads of rubber and threads hanging off the sides. I mentally groaned when I saw it and immediately concluded we would be spending the night (which was rapidly descending) in the jungle. There was no way this thing would make it to the pavement, let along back to Coban. But Thomas seemed unfrazzled and proceeded to install this ersatz tire. He even asked us why we were all taking pictures of the thing. Apparently this quality of tire must be common in Guatemala! Any, there was no option, so with the replacement wheel on, we slowly made our way along the track. We all let out a sigh of relief when we made it to the pavement, and almost unbelievably, we made it back to Coban unscathed.

We arrived back at the hotel about 8:00 and convinced the owner to keep the cook there for a while longer to make us a meal. The hotel restaurant normally closed at 8:00. So over a beer and a meal we laughed and chatted our way through a recap of this fabulous day.

The next day it was on to Tikal for two nights and then into Belize and the sleepy town of San Ignacio where I’m currently typing this missive. I don’t think I’ll get a chance to update the blog for a week or so, but suffice it to say we’ve have further amazing adventures. Tikal, the ancient centre of the Mayan world was fascinating and we’ve had another fascinating day yesterday, the description of which will have to wait. But for fans of Google, I’ll give you a hint….ATM at San Ignacio doesn’t stand for Automated Teller Machine.

Till next time….

Robb