Tikal, Mayan ruins in the jungle

We were sitting on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere waiting for a bus.  That morning we had been in Belize, and we hoped to get to Tikal at some point, but every bus that passed us wasn’t going there.   Each of them helpfully suggested a time that one might come, each time suggested was different.   Eventually a minibus stopped on it’s way to Tikal and we hopped in.  We quickly realised this was not a local minibus, this was a tour on it’s way from Flores to Tikal.  The guide was, however, relatively interesting pointing things out along the way.  He also offered to let us join the tour (there were two other people), for a price of course.  Having just come from Belize where an amazing guide educated us on caves and Mayans, we decided it would be worth it.  We were looking forward to learning more about the buildings and the people who built them.  

This guide, however, was not in the same league as the guide in Belize.  We quickly began to suspect he was making up half of what he was saying, and the bits that were true often related to his own life.  For example, the exact bedding that he has at home.  Fascinating stuff.  Not willing to suffer through the promised four hour tour, we left him with his original tour group and explored the site ourselves.  Tikal is special not just for the size and enormity of the temples and palaces, but because it is still enshrouded in jungle.  We seemed to be constantly pointing out monkeys to each other.  We also came across a massive group of coati, with many different litters as there seemed to be coati of every size.  We stayed near the site and watched monkeys play in the trees outside our room.  It feels more like it may have been when the Mayans inhabited the buildings, the jungle encroaching and a constant part of their lives.

Pools and caves

We broke up the trip to Semuc Champey in Coban. This hadn’t actually been the plan, but we made such good time on buses that we just kept going.  Strangely our local bus (actually, 7 buses) took the same amount of time as the direct shuttle, which costs 4 times the price.  This was the first time that our ‘don’t plan in advance’ approach caused us problems.  When we arrived in Coban at 5:30pm the streets were packed with people.  There was street food, clowns and a general party atmosphere.  Instantly liking the feel we walked the 2km to a hostel listed in the Lonely Planet.  It was full, however, and when we asked for another recommendation they just shook their heads and said everywhere was full.  I left Jason at the hostel, and went out in search of a room.  Having checked four hotels I managed to find one very overpriced room.  The bathroom smelt, there wasn’t even a fan, and none of the hostel basics like wifi or free water.  It should have cost half what we were charged, but it was somewhere to sleep.  Meanwhile the hostel where Jason was waiting were making calls to try and find us a room elsewhere, but were unsuccessful.  The reason for this room shortage was a marathon the next day.  In the morning we explored the packed town and watched the runners, both the leaders (who seemed to be mainly African) and those bringing up the rear.  

Then it was onto Semuc Champey.  Semuc is famous for being the most beautiful spot in the country, a series of clear limestone pools which are perfect for swimming.  It didn’t disappoint.  We walked from out lodge to the entrance, by which time we were dripping with sweat and wanted nothing more than to dive into the pools.  However, knowing it would be hard to get moving again, we choose to head up the viewpoint.  45 minutes of steps later we had a birds eye view of the river, waterfalls, pools and the valley it is situated in.  Stunning!  The rest of the day was spent swimming, clambouring up and down the pools, testing out natural waterslides and jumping into the water.

Following our day of relaxation we headed into the nearby caves.  We handed over our money for the tour, and in return we were given two candles.  Unlike other caves we’ve been in there are no torches and no electric lighting.  Exploring the cave by candlelight was surreal.  Even more so as this is a wet cave and we were frequently swimming with our precious candle held above our heads.  At one point there was a small waterfall (just over 2m) that we had to climb using a knotted rope.  It was a delicate balancing act of managing to grip the rope without burning ourselves or the rope, whilst trying to find some purchase on the slippery rock face.  The highlight though was at the end of the cave where we reached a small pool.  We were given the option of turning back, or climbing to around 3m and jumping into the pool.  The climb up was rather precarious, and once we had managed to turn around at the top (the guide stepped on my shoe to stop me falling as I made my turn), we were shown the very small target area.  The pool was quite shallow, but there was about a 1m area that was deep enough to be safe, however it wasn’t below you, you had to jump forward - just not too far!

Lake Atitlan

On our last night in Antigua the rainy season started.  Clouds had been forming, and we’d witnessed lightening storms, but that evening was the first real rain they had seen since November.  Since then there have been storms and rain each afternoon and night.  Luckily we have still had beautiful sunny mornings, and we’ve been making the best of them at Lake Atitlan.  

Lake Atitlan is a stunningly beautiful lake surrounded by volcanoes and villages built upon the steep slopes.  Whether it was walking between the villages, or catching the frequent lanchas (small motorboats) around the edge of the lake, it was more beautiful than we had anticipated.  

Within the actual villages it was fascinating to see the Mayan people.  The villages are still mostly inhabited by indigenous communities, and it was the first time we had seen men and children dressed in traditional clothing.  Each village has slightly different clothing.  In one village everyone was dressed in hues of blue and purple, whilst the women had tinsel braided into their hair.  In another women wore embroidered blouses with heavy colourful skirts.  In one village we stumbled upon an event that seemed to include people from all the villages taking it in turns to perform, what seemed to be stories about the formation of the lake, or local customs.

It was the perfect place to relax for a couple of days before starting the multi-day bus trip to Semuc Champey.

Volcan Acatenango

I woke up in a state of panic, a flashback to our honeymoon 10 years ago after we had climbed Mount Kinabalu and promised ourselves we would never go through that again.  The pain, the exhaustion, the altitude sickness - for us the reward just wasn’t worth it.  Why, then, were we planning on climbing Volcan Acatenango?

Now there are a few differences between Mount Kinabalu and Volcan Acatenango.  The latter is 200m lower for a start.  Unfortunately at almost 4000m it’s still high enough to cause altitude sickness.  On Mount Kinabalu all we had to carry was water and snacks for the day, whereas for this climb we had to carry all our water and food for both days plus all our camping equipment.  This wasn’t the hightech lightweight designed for hiking camping equipment either, it was the cheap designed for car camping equipment.  Mount Kinabalu is almost a never ending staircase, hard on the knees but easy to keep your feet.  The majority of the climb up Acatenango is on volcanic scree and ash.

We were committed though, and not going to back out now.  Throughout the hour long bus ride to the start of the trek I flitted between believing I could do this, to being sure we had made a horrible mistake.  Once we were off the bus and had managed to attach the very bulky camping gear to our packs, it was time to start the ascent.  There was no gradual introduction, the path was steep and covered in knee deep ash and scree.  With each step our feet slipped down the volcano, our muscles tensed as we tried to stay upright and moving forward more than backwards.  

We were breathing hard, and our muscles were already complaining when Jason started falling behind.   His face contorted with pain, but he kept pushing himself not wanting to be the weak link in our little group.  He paused every few steps, bending over in an attempt to relieve the pain in his side.  I forced him to stop, rest for a minute and take some aspirin.  There was no glory in pushing through at this point if it meant we never reached the summit.  After a few minutes he was ready to go on, and we continued making our way up the slope.  When we finally caught up to the group we were greeted with high fives and lively conversation. There were only 6 people in our group, and they all seemed to be there to have a good time, rather than trying to set a speed record for the ascent.  It was helped that our guide was perpetually happy, frequently reminding everyone “Don’t worry, be happy.”  

After that first break, the aspirin kicked in and we found ourselves well paced with the rest of our group.  At times someone would struggle with the altitude, cramps, or just exhaustion.  But the mood was continually upbeat, just what you need when pushing your physical limits.  After 4 hours of hiking through an ever changing landscape of farmland, cloud forest and pine forest, we reached a large flat clearing where we collapsed in various states of exhaustion.  When it was time to move on our guide assured us it was flat the rest of the way.  We cheered, one more hour on flat ground sounded doable.  He lied.  It was no longer the continually uphill slog, it was worse.  Constant ups and downs.  We weren’t gaining elevation, but my legs assured me it was anything but flat.  Then there was the added mental anguish of knowing the next day we would have to do this again.  

Shortly after 4pm we arrived at our campsite, a small flat area cut into the side of the volcano, with the most magnificent view.  Fuego was just in front of us, so close it felt like you could reach out and touch it.  Volcan Agua was to our left, with Antigua between it and us.  The clouds had been mounting for the last hour so we quickly set up camp and got the fire going.  Throughout the evening the clouds came and went, at times obliterating Fuego, at other times encapsulating the two volcanoes so we had a clear view.  A lightening storm started, and we watched the storm move around us.  Amazing red lightening bolts lit up the sky, accompanied by the occasional eruptions from Fuego.      

As night fell our guide set up a speaker and there was singing, dancing and enough rum that we were just a little tipsy.  It was at that moment that Fuego erupted shooting lava and rocks high into the air, whilst we looked on astounded.  

Eventually our little party ended and we tried to get some sleep before our 3:30am wake up call.  We didn’t really succeed as it was bitterly cold without the fire and rum to keep us warm, and we were on alert knowing we didn’t have long to sleep anyway.  The morning ascent was brutal.  We were tired, sore and feeling the impact of the altitude.  With no view for distraction it became a simple matter of one step at a time, trying to find purchase on a slope that continually slid down beneath our feet.  The sky gradually lightened and we turned off our headlamps continuing in the grey pre-dawn light.  I reached the summit and turned to see the first rays of sunlight cross the horizon and forgot all the pain.  The sky turned hues of yellow, orange and red.  We warmed our cold hands in the steam vents of Acatenango as Pacaya erupted to our left, Fuego erupted in front of us, and yet another volcano erupted to our right sending a massive ash cloud up into the air.  This was why it’s known as the Ring of Fire.

Antigua - a guest post by Jason ;)

Antigua was an unusual town that we really quite liked, it was quirky and unpredictable as well as providing us with some of the best food we had eaten in a while. The quirkiness comes from never quite knowing what you will encounter as you go round the town, on one occasion we encountered a school, with 40 or quite probably more students carrying a float on their shoulders, we think it was in honour of a saint, though possibly it was to commemorate an event.  Loud bangs were part of the unpredictableness I could have done without. Randomly through out the day (and night) a loud bang or several would startle us, it turned out that a firework the size of a poster tube were responsible, while it made no flash or explosion the sound certainly carried, as did the music that blared out of some shops or advertising bikes convincing us that most Guatemalans are either deaf or soon will be.

We did do some activities within the town, a museum dedicated to the printed word was somewhat smaller that we had expected, but then a museum which was located in a hotel, turned out to be one of the better experiences.  The museum was actually a collection of at least seven small specialty museums ranging from art, silverware to cooking and even toys all located within the ruins of a large convent which the hotel now encased.  The ruins of the building were interesting in of themselves and the number of small museums definitely made the entrance worthwhile.  Plus they had a true chocolatier working there and we splurged on a truffle each, whilst Ellen just stayed inside the chocolate shop savouring the smell of good quality chocolate (and the air conditioning).