For the Present is the point at which time touches eternity. – C. S. Lewis
Sunday, March 18, 2012 (DAY 14)
Awaking the next morning before jumping out of bed, I realize that my bearings are a bit different as I am elevated more than I have been used to as the mosquito net is within an arm’s reach above me. Extremely thankful I didn’t fall out of the top bunk, you must remember it has been years since I’ve even slept in a twin bed, let alone the top bunk. I sit up in bed and look to my right, making eye contact with Char who is awake lying in bed two bunks away, we agree that it is time to rise and decide for ourselves if Semuc Champey truly lives up to the hype. Tim is always last to crawl from bed, clinging to the last precious seconds I suppose.
The short walk uphill to the main dirt road that circles through Lanquin, it is 10:30am and we have thirty minutes until the next bus arrives, supposedly. After learning that there are no more transports to the pools, we begin walking towards the center of town, and after ten minutes I notice a sign for tours. Just inside the narrow doorway, the tiny shaded room is full of four other tourists inquiring about the same issue. Exchanging introductions with everyone Melissa, a short blonde haired girl from Seattle and the only fluent Spanish speaker among us negotiates our transport. We are ecstatic to learn that for Q300 ($40 USD) they will take all seven of us now and pick us up at 3:30pm. The rest of our new entourage hails from Seattle as well and consists of a mid-thirties married couple, Koban, a native South Afrian and his wife Jessica, along with her brother Jared, of which both are Americans. Later, we learn that these three are impressively driving a Toyota 4-Runner from Washington State to Argentina over the course of eighteen months. I’m always amazed at the adventurous spirit of other travelers and the diverse plans and methods they choose to adopt in their personal and unique experience of exploring the world we live in.
Awaking the next morning before jumping out of bed, I realize that my bearings are a bit different as I am elevated more than I have been used to as the mosquito net is within an arm’s reach above me. Extremely thankful I didn’t fall out of the top bunk, you must remember it has been years since I’ve even slept in a twin bed, let alone the top bunk. I sit up in bed and look to my right, making eye contact with Char who is awake lying in bed two bunks away, we agree that it is time to rise and decide for ourselves if Semuc Champey truly lives up to the hype. Tim is always last to crawl from bed, clinging to the last precious seconds I suppose.
The short walk uphill to the main dirt road that circles through Lanquin, it is 10:30am and we have thirty minutes until the next bus arrives, supposedly. After learning that there are no more transports to the pools, we begin walking towards the center of town, and after ten minutes I notice a sign for tours. Just inside the narrow doorway, the tiny shaded room is full of four other tourists inquiring about the same issue. Exchanging introductions with everyone Melissa, a short blonde haired girl from Seattle and the only fluent Spanish speaker among us negotiates our transport. We are ecstatic to learn that for Q300 ($40 USD) they will take all seven of us now and pick us up at 3:30pm. The rest of our new entourage hails from Seattle as well and consists of a mid-thirties married couple, Koban, a native South Afrian and his wife Jessica, along with her brother Jared, of which both are Americans. Later, we learn that these three are impressively driving a Toyota 4-Runner from Washington State to Argentina over the course of eighteen months. I’m always amazed at the adventurous spirit of other travelers and the diverse plans and methods they choose to adopt in their personal and unique experience of exploring the world we live in.
Within a few minutes a pickup truck pulls up and we begin climbing in, this is short-lived after about five minutes when the truck stops and the driver explains to us that we are to transfer vehicles by climbing aboard an excessively crowded pickup truck that has thirty people clinging to every possible space. Arguing the terms and the money that was collected, Melissa, our lone interpreter, argues in frustration and after ten minutes we realize this is our only option. Frustrated and disgusted with the situation, we squeeze our way through the crowd in the back of the truck and take hold of the nearest metal bar that is not already covered by a various hand that snakes through a sea of bodies and disappears back to the actual owner.
I remember viewing and laughing at these types of photos back home, wondering how in the world people could travel in such an obscure fashion. And now, I am directly in the thick of it, probably in a photo that will be mocked just as I did, even though I am in no way visible as two layers of people surrounded me from every side. Welcome to Guatemala.
Fifteen minutes in and already my hands are numb from the vibrations of grasping to the bar with a stronghold for balance. Thinking to myself, eleven kilometers certainly cannot take that long. One hour later with more bumps, dips, steep inclines, and treacherous slopes, and we are at the gate to Semuc Champey. Walking past a barrage of military soldiers gun in hand, we pay the Q50 ($6.25) entrance fee and begin down the narrow set of wooden stairs and walkways that are painted a dark chocolate brown. Ten minutes through the winding path and we receive our first glance through the leaves of the trees, the most incredible green and blue pools of water I could ever imagine. Bustling with excitement, we begin to realize why everyone that has visited this surreal natural beauty, insists upon a visit, regardless of how long it may take to arrive by bus and how difficult the roads may be, and we had only seen a small glimmer, not realizing the full magnificence of this truly special location. Reaching the end of the wooden walkway, to your left you look out and see two mountainous hills that perfectly frame the pools in the foreground as a large lush landscape of more hills are visible in the distance, and to your left, thick jungle vines cling to the rocks of the river that flows upstream feeding these placid and serene pools of crystal clear waters. Imagining the beauty of Heaven, this would surely be it.
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