It's hard to describe what we did today. I thought about how I could put it into words the entire drive back to the hotel.
First of all, let me say mistakes were made three months ago when I was planning this trip. By the map I ordered, it looked like we were going to be able to land in a resting spot and use our days to zip here and there to see the sights. No zipping in this country. As a result of yo no se que, the infrastructure here is in a pretty sorry state, mainly evidenced by the deterioration of the roads. I thought our hotel was centrally located and it would be a short little drive up to see the gemstone of Guatemala in all it's glory. As it was, it was a 12 hour adventure.
Secondly, it rained last night. ALL night. 'nuff said.
We drove north through countryside that got more beautiful at every turn. Surprisingly, the dress code for this part of the country is quite subdued. The skirts are ankle length and full, pleated on a waistband. The huipils have turned to lacy polyester overshirts-same shape, but made of heavy lace. Very pretty and I don't have a single picture. I do have this, though:
Can you believe that? Click on it.
We made it to the town of Lanquin, the jumping off point to get to Semuk. As we drove slowly through town, young boys chased after us telling us our car wouldn't make it, however, they could offer us "for a special price" yadda yadda yadda. We plodded on, Ev had seen recent ride reports on ADV Rider and assured me we could make it. We picked up a hitchhiker who assured us we would be fine. The road was way steep. Way steep. We crawled past a series of 5 4x4 pick up trucks stopped on the side of the road-a convention perhaps? Um, no. We rounded the corner into the steepest, stickiest, muddiest mess you have ever seen, all partially blocked by a backhoe. Oh! is THAT what they were saying?
Unfortunately we rooster tailed mud onto the vehicles behind us and had to back slowly down the hill to cheers and cat-calling from the stopped truck drivers. We ate a sleeve of Emperadors...
And considered our options:
We ended up parking the car on a cliff edge and climbing into the back of one of the pick up trucks. We rode with the locals up to Semuk. The young men were really giving Ev shit until I said (in a mentally practiced Spanish sentence so it would come out perfect) "One day you, too, will be 62 years old and I hope you have the same cojones to try anything like my man will." Little did I know...
Once we got up to the park, we hooked up with a young earnest guide named 'Nando who told me he was an orphan and later told Ev he was on the phone with his sick father. mmm-hmmm It was wet and slippery, I was feeling chilled (in fact left my bathing suit in the car an hour away). We started climbing up to the mirador and I knew right away it was dangerous for me. Ev, however, sprinted up in his flip flops.
These are beautiful natural turquoise colored springs, slightly muddied by the recent rains.
And this is our invincible young guide, 'Nando, who asked me to post this photo on his facebook page. I hope he's still alive when I do.
The thing that makes this site extraordinary is that a river meets the springs, disappears under the springs and comes out on the other side of the springs. What a stroke of good fortune it doesn't pollute the springs. Because of the rain, it was raging. You could not believe the sound this thing made:
Our young friend tried to convince me it would be OK to strip down to my unders and go for a swim in the pools, descending until we saw where the river came out. I declined, so he offered me his shorts. "Expandable elastic", said he. No thanks, watching is good. So he shepherded Ev out into the pools and convinced him it would be a great idea to scale the edge and swan dive in. Lordie, lordie.
While they paddled downstream and again upstream, I sat and contemplated the beauty around me:
Once more, we got home after dark, disobeying our number one rule. BUT we had a fresh oven baked pizza with real pepperoni for dinner on the way home. Bonus!
I have a fever and the runs.
First of all, let me say mistakes were made three months ago when I was planning this trip. By the map I ordered, it looked like we were going to be able to land in a resting spot and use our days to zip here and there to see the sights. No zipping in this country. As a result of yo no se que, the infrastructure here is in a pretty sorry state, mainly evidenced by the deterioration of the roads. I thought our hotel was centrally located and it would be a short little drive up to see the gemstone of Guatemala in all it's glory. As it was, it was a 12 hour adventure.
Secondly, it rained last night. ALL night. 'nuff said.
We drove north through countryside that got more beautiful at every turn. Surprisingly, the dress code for this part of the country is quite subdued. The skirts are ankle length and full, pleated on a waistband. The huipils have turned to lacy polyester overshirts-same shape, but made of heavy lace. Very pretty and I don't have a single picture. I do have this, though:
We made it to the town of Lanquin, the jumping off point to get to Semuk. As we drove slowly through town, young boys chased after us telling us our car wouldn't make it, however, they could offer us "for a special price" yadda yadda yadda. We plodded on, Ev had seen recent ride reports on ADV Rider and assured me we could make it. We picked up a hitchhiker who assured us we would be fine. The road was way steep. Way steep. We crawled past a series of 5 4x4 pick up trucks stopped on the side of the road-a convention perhaps? Um, no. We rounded the corner into the steepest, stickiest, muddiest mess you have ever seen, all partially blocked by a backhoe. Oh! is THAT what they were saying?
Once we got up to the park, we hooked up with a young earnest guide named 'Nando who told me he was an orphan and later told Ev he was on the phone with his sick father. mmm-hmmm It was wet and slippery, I was feeling chilled (in fact left my bathing suit in the car an hour away). We started climbing up to the mirador and I knew right away it was dangerous for me. Ev, however, sprinted up in his flip flops.
The thing that makes this site extraordinary is that a river meets the springs, disappears under the springs and comes out on the other side of the springs. What a stroke of good fortune it doesn't pollute the springs. Because of the rain, it was raging. You could not believe the sound this thing made:
When they emerge, Ev realizes Nando had done a cannonball. With sign language, he is lecturing our young friend on the fine art of the swan dive. Be still, my beating heart.
While they paddled downstream and again upstream, I sat and contemplated the beauty around me:
I have a fever and the runs.
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