Today we farewell Belize and its delicious lobsters and spend much of the day in transit to Tulum, Mexico. Not all days are created equal just as not all days can be jam packed with as much fun as others.
Today is one of those not so fun ones.
Last views from Caye Caulker
We are on the 8am water taxi from the island to the mainland. Its much cooler this morning so we all make a beeline for the downstairs interior. This proves to be a wise choice when people from the top level start coming down the stairs to squeeze in downstairs wherever they can, in varying stages of wetness. One woman’s hair is dripping. At some point water starts running along the bench seat on the side where most of the group are seating. I shift forward but its like shutting the gate after the proverbial horse, I have a wet arse.
An hour later and we’re pulling up to the dock at Belize City. Collecting my bag reveals that when putting the padlock on the bottom section of my backpack I only put it through one of the zippers, rendering it not only a pointless exercise but leaving my zipper to open, which is exactly what it has done. My towel was closest to the top and it’s still there, hopefully all of my underwear and socks still are too or I could need to go shopping once I hit Mexico!
Back in Mexico
At the Mexico border I forget to sign my entry form and the official sends me to the back of what is now a very large line. I want to yell with frustration and the injustice, it would have taken me two seconds to sign the form in front of him, but you don’t want to give them any reason to further make life difficult for you. My group gives me sympathetic looks but I’m sure the delay is a pain in the arse. He must have taken pity on me though as he called me back down after a few more people had gone through.
The customs section is empty when we arrive and they have to start up the machine to scan our bags through. They also have the same system I saw entering Guatemala for inspections. You collect your bag from the belt and are directed to push a button that has two lights above it. A green light you get to carry on, a red light means your bag gets checked. One of the group collects her bag quicker than me and goes ahead. She gets a red light. Mine is green. I’m relieved it is her and not me. Not that I think I would have anything of concern, but there are some things they could potentially challenge and my bag would be a nightmare to repack in a hurry. They had a good rifle through the bags of the four members of our group that got a red light.
It’s a nice comfortable bus with plenty of space for this next leg, thankfully since its such a long journey. We stop off at a lovely place on the lake for lunch where some of the group have a swim. I’m content to peruse however, and enjoy a banana nutella crepe for dessert!
Its pretty much 7pm when we pull into our Tulum accommodation and Ruth and I were pretty impressed with our room. It was ginormous, with a spacious bathroom and a king and queen bed. And the bed was super comfortable! Others didn’t find their rooms quite so impressive.
We walked the ten minutes into town for dinner. It’s unbelievable how many dogs are tearing around, I’m nearly barrelled over by one. But they all seem to have road sense. I’m keen to hit the shops tomorrow and check out some of the stores we’ve passed. Just for something different we have Tacos for dinner. They’re basic but pretty tasty. Some of us arrange to meet up for a trip to the ruins of Tulum tomorrow given its a free day.
After a long day of traveling we’re all pretty beat and head for our beds early, for us anyway!
Day 19; The Tulum Mayan Ruins
The morning finds us once again walking into town for a prearranged breakfast with those of us heading to the ruins, most of us as it turns out. A glorious free day stretches before us! The limited Spanish most of us, including myself, know proves insufficient to communicate the finer details of our order, but fortunately our French group member is far closer to fluency, even though she would deny it. The breakfast special is an omelette with a juice included and most of us order some variation of this with a coffee extra. The coffee’s ok, but I still miss Guatemalan coffee.
Most of the girls choose to hire a bicycle for the day from the hire place near our hotel, as I can’t actually ride a bike (yes I know how, it’s a brain injury/balance thing) I chose to get a taxi out to the ruins, and Fiona and Helena elected to join me. While the others arranged their bikes the three of us walked over the road in front of the hotel to the shopping centre, where we figured there would probably be somewhere we could get a taxi. The one we found quoted twenty pesos to take the three of us. While this seemed an extraordinarily good deal and we all jumped at it, by the time the taxi dropped us off he was asking us for two hundred pesos. Between the three of us it was still pretty cheap though, and we couldn’t exactly argue with him. It was just fortunate we were carrying enough cash.
In any case, we had safely arrived at the Tulum Mayan Ruins.
By this time, you’d probably think that all the ruins are starting to look pretty much the same, and to an extent you’d be right, but the Tulum ruins are unique in that they are built literally on the coastline. The ruins against the backdrop of the ocean colours makes for some spectacular photos. The city is also known as Zama, meaning dawn, so named for being one of the first places dawn breaks in Mexico. It was a commercial port for the Mayans that served as a redistribution point for products coming from Central America, the gulf and Central Mexico.
The ruins are open every day from 8am to 5pm and entry is around forty pesos. It does get pretty busy though, so best to get out ther early to beat the crowds. Waiting at the entry gate we see a group of Coati in the trees. Once inside the three of us wander our separate ways, agreeing on a meeting point for later.
Entry to the city
One of the first things I notice is that there are Iguanas, literally everywhere! Seeing these is a first for me and I regularly snap away with the camera.
While the path around the city offers many photo opportunities, none are perhaps quite so picturesque as the Temple of the Wind God standing on the edge of the cliff face. These specific temples are identifiable due to their circular shape when viewed from above, rare in Mayan architecture.
Temple of the Wind God
The Palace, so named because it was the residence of the Great Lord and his family
The Castle; the most important building in Tulum. It was once brightly painted.
Between June and October every year two species of turtle come to this beach to lay their eggs.
Pausing for a quick selfie!
After spending some time wandering Tulum, I rendezvous with Fiona and Helena and we decide to walk along the road that leads to the ruins, populated with hotel after hotel, and find somewhere to enjoy a cold drink in the heat of the afternoon. We find many of them are quite exclusive and deny us entry but finally find a glamping site. It is populated with a number of large tents for rent, and a quaint makeshift kitchen built into a hut-like structure. With no electricity, drink and food choices are limited to what can be mixed by hand or cooked over a fire. We enjoy a number of cocktails and a light meal.
Rather than get a taxi back to our hotel we decide that it didn’t really seem that far when we traveled there, and decided to walk. It took us the best part of an hour!
I pass the rest of the afternoon strolling the streets in town perusing the stores, and while I was tempted by a lovely colourful hammock the reality of transporting it home made it seem rather unpractical. I returned to the hotel empty handed.
Thinking of visiting Tulum? Check out these tips to travel Mexico on a budget!
Day 17; Quiet reflection and exploring in Caye Caulker
I am sitting on a Caribbean beach drinking a fresh orange and pineapple juice, tad early for cocktails and a tad warm for coffee, watching a white wading bird lifting its feet above the water and placing them down again, head poised to dive below the surface the moment a morsel of food catches its eye. Further out a duck like bird I think they call a Bobbin disappears entirely from view periodically as it hunts. Behind me the bars restaurant blender has started again, and the wading bird is holding its beak just barely above the water fixated on something. A couple of people are going by on stand-up paddleboards about 100m out. I may give that a go this afternoon. There’s a kayaker out there too.
The temperature is pleasant in the shade of the palms and a fresh breeze is wandering through. Out in the open the full strength of the sun hits with force and with my skin I can’t venture out for long without drenching myself in suncream. A day spent in the sun yesterday and I’m proud I escaped a burn.
Today is our last day on this idyllic patch of paradise, we leave Belize to return to Mexico tomorrow. Tulum is our next destination. It’s been nice to have the extra day somewhere, today is a free day and I’m relishing the chance for a relaxed wander and some time for myself, hard to come by traveling with a group of people. I have been away 16days, or 17 if you count the going backwards in time, so I am approaching the halfway mark of my trip. The extra day has also been good for getting some washing done, I was out of shirts. I have what I need to wash in the rooms, but most of the rooms haven’t had space for drying and none of them have had a plug for the sink.
The Split
I’ve walked the length of one side of the island this morning, up to a spot they call The Split – or a gap between two spots of land. One of our group asked our guide yesterday whether you could swim across but it’s the channel for all the boat traffic so you would be asking for trouble to try it. It is one of the main beach spots on the island, and there were maybe thirty people in total scattered around or in the water, including a couple from my group. A few of the others have hired a bike for the morning and another couple are on foot exploring.
The motto here is go slow, everyone says it and many eateries around have it displayed in some form. Everyone rides bikes, the only motorised vehicles are golf buggy’s which serve as the local taxis – so nothing even goes fast here, except the boats! It’s not just a saying here, it’s a way of life.
There’s a stray dog population here but it’s contained, I’ve seen the same dogs over and over. Unlike other parts we have traveled they are clearly well fed and cared for. One of my group was telling me that the whole community takes responsibility for caring for them, a local vet keeps them healthy and they desex them so the population is controlled. The dogs are a regular sight, stretched out in sun or shade or trotting around inquisitively.
As expected by the ocean the seafood is amazing. Lobster is in season and I’ve had it the last three nights. Even grilled with nothing added the meat is the most full of flavour I have ever had! I haven’t tried the prawns yet so I have just ordered a shrimp salad for lunch. When it arrives it’s basically a pile of grilled shrimp on a bed of lettuce and slaw with some onion, tomato and cucumber thrown in for good measure. But the shrimp is tasty and it’s nice to have some fresh wholesome veges. I hope the water it was washed in is safe.
Compared to Mexico and Guatemala, Belize is expensive, but compared to home it’s still cheap. A whole lobster is about $22 Australian.
I’ve never been to Jamaica, but the people here seem very much like how Jamaica is portrayed in the movies. They love to sing, and there are often voices singing various western or reggae tunes as you walk past them on the street. They sound the same, and many of the men have jet black dreadlocks that stretch down their backs.
I’ve spent the afternoon attempting to walk to the other side of the island. I say attempting because after 4.5kms in the heat of the day it didn’t seem like such a great idea anymore. And there wasn’t really much to see. After the stretch of hotels tucked away with their private beachfronts and docks, the beach becomes mangroves and scrub, and at times smelly stagnant water. There are also a number of signs advertising property for sale so if you’re looking for that holiday house…though its apparently unbearable in the summer!
Eventually I head back to the main beach thoroughfare and am content to sit and watch the world go by while sipping on a cocktail, before collecting my washing and heading back to my room to pack for tomorrow’s early departure. It’s yet another lobster for dinner – may as well take advantage while I can after all – and more cocktails naturally! We head to the sportsbar yet again, but most of us don’t stay long before we’re heading for our beds. The sun and the heat takes it out of you!
This was a relaxing and quiet day for me, but for more fun things to do in Caye Caulker you can check out other things to do in Caye Caulker, Belize.
Day 16; Snorkeling Caye Caulker with Stressless Tours
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Gearing up and setting out
Most of us turn up to the same, Dani-recommended, place for breakfast at varying times. It’s a late start this morning, we wont be departing on the boat until 10am, but before that we all have to go and take our turns at being fitted for the snorkeling gear. It’s almost my turn when they say they need cash to pay the guides, so I head back to the hotel to raid the stash of cash I have in the safe. They’ll take both US dollars and Belizean here, and to keep it easy it’s a straight 1:2 ratio, one USD to two Belizean. By the time I get back most of the group is nowhere to be seen.
Keith isn’t here, but we’re being helped by a couple of young men who we find out later are his brothers. The business is a family affair. One of them, with long black dreadlocks and gleaming teeth in a beaming smile that lights up his face introduces himself as Shane and asks me if I’ve been fitted for my snorkeling gear yet and I tell him no. He sits me down and with another flash of that smile lifts one of my legs up to rest across his knees and starts trying flippers on my foot. I find myself wondering if I remembered to shave my legs. He then proceeds to fit masks onto my face. When I bid my farewell he flashes that smile with a wink and tells me maybe he’ll see me later. These Belizean men are charming that’s for certain. I’m positive it is all part of the service, this is a tipping country after all, but I leave feeling like I’ve received a special level of treatment.
We’re all back at 10am waiting outside the office ready and are led off to the boat, which is quite literally a speedboat. Someone behind me remarked they thought Keith was joking when he said there were no toilets on board. We’re helped off the dock down into the boat in true gentlemanly fashion then told to get what we need out of our packs and pass them up to be stored in the undercover section of the boat. I’ll be testing out the new waterproof pouch for my phone today to get some photos and video. I had one already, but it was purple so the plastic tinged the images. This one is clear. I’ve put myself squarely under the roof of the boat to get as much protection from the sun as I can.
There are three guides joining us for the days snorkeling, including the dreadlocked man with the dazzling smile.
Passing through the gap between islands known as ‘The Split’
Our first stop is only a short trip away to another dock on the island with a large area of seaweed beside it, where we are pointed out a number of seahorses hanging on with their tails and bobbing around in the current. They are very light, and not strong swimmers so they always need to be holding on and they’ll be in areas of water where the waves aren’t strong. The males carry eggs deposited by a female in a pouch on their tail until they hatch.
On our way out from the seahorse dock they hover the boat over a school of large local fish called Tarpons. Unique because unlike other fish they can come to the surface to breathe in air. Some of these ones are close to a metre in size, but they grow much bigger and this part of the bay is one of their habitats. They’re not good for eating though we’re informed.
The huge Tarpons – not good eating
The Coral Garden
It’s only a short trip to our first snorkeling spot for the day; the Coral Garden, a spot teeming with fish and corals in clear blue waters. It’s time for me to try this snorkeling thing.
We’re all handed out the flippers and masks we were fitted this morning and asked if anyone isn’t a strong swimmer and wants a life jacket. Myself and a couple of the other girls raise our hands, and one of the boats jackets is tied on under our arms. One of the girls murmurs why it’s being tied on this way, I explain that if its worn as it should be it would keep us upright and we wouldn’t be able to put our faces in the water. One by one we sit on the front of the boat with our feet dangling over the water and push off. My jacket keeps me afloat when I hit, it’s like bobbing around inside a flotation ring. I’m sure I probably look ridiculous, and it’s awkward trying to swim, but at the very least I’m not going to drown.
Two of the guides are in the water with us and we are divided between them and instructed to stay close to our assigned guide. I am in Shane’s group. He tells us all that when he claps under water we are to come up so that he can speak to us. The other group have moved further away from us.
My mask is already on my face and I take a few deep breaths to steady my breathing, and put the mouthpiece in and take a few more. I tip my body forward in my jacket-ring and put my face down.
My instinct is to hold my breath rather than attempt to breathe through the mask, and my first few breaths are rapid gasps that do nothing to calm my nerves. That familiar compression commences in my chest and I fight it, forcing myself to take slow breaths. I can hear my breathing under the water as the water laps around my ears. The water is still, protected from the waves by the reef.
The water below me is full of Belize marine life. Periodically Shane claps his hands so that he can point out fish to us, including a couple of large stingrays gently traveling along the sandy floor kicking up a sandy wake. My phone turns out to be a useful focal point, giving me something to focus on instead of thinking about my panic and breathing and I find I am able to breathe almost normally. The waterproof pouch allows for great visibility, however the plastic prevents the phone from registering my touch while underwater so instead of photos I have to make do with video, starting and stopping the recordings above the water. I manage to capture a ray and a few of the local fish, I thought I got better footage of the ray but the camera didn’t record. When I lifted my head up I had swum away from the group following it. It is a stark reminder that I am in the open ocean and I need to keep my head. Shane shows us a cave under the reef and invites anyone confident to free-dive it with him.
Before too long there is water dribbling down the inside of my mask, the seal has broken. I put up with it for a while and then bob around in the water held buoyant by my jacket-ring to empty it. The fins feel ridiculously clumsy and heavy on my feet, and my ankles are sore from the unfamiliar feeling of kicking with something weighing them down. Shane notices me emptying my mask again and asks if everything is ok.
Shark Ray Alley
Even though I have my phone I’m not paying any attention to time, so I couldn’t say how long we spent snorkeling out there before we’re called back to the boat to continue on our journey. Our next stop is known as Shark Ray Alley, funnily enough named for the Sharks and Rays. It hasn’t even occurred to me to ask what Sharks are in these waters, which is probably for the best really. I don’t even ask for the life jacket this time, and I find I’m able to stay afloat without difficulty.
I cannot say if it was real, or my eyes and mind playing tricks on me in my anxious state, but when I first put my head into the water I glimpse a Hammerhead Shark. In an instant my head is back above the water frantically looking around as my brain tries to process the information. Confused, I put my head back down and look around, there is no sign of anything. I convince myself I am seeing things, though when I look it up later I find that they can be found in these waters. Disturbingly, so can Bull Sharks.
Nurse Shark
There are however, plenty of Nurse Sharks. We’re told they are bottom feeders, and certainly this is where most of them are, sifting through the sands beneath us or swimming not far above. They come nowhere near us. Several Rays slowly glide through the water. I’m still having issues with my mask leaking and Shane seems to notice every time my head comes up again. He attributes every instance to the mask, I don’t tell him that sometimes its simply because I need to check where the rest of the group are.
Hol Chan Marine Reserve
The best snorkeling in Belize is up next, the Hol Chan Marine Reserve. We’re hoping to see Manatees, which have been sighted in the area on recent trips, and a large Green Sea Turtle also often makes an appearance. When our boat arrives amongst a number of boats already moored, another guide yells out that the Belize Turtle is in the area.
All thoughts of sharks are forgotten and as soon as I’m in the water I make a beeline for where we’ve been pointed as the Turtles location. I’m still a way away from her when I see her swimming along the ocean floor, and I am single minded in my focus to get there. The camera is rolling and I capture the legs and feet of a number of snorkelers as I speed past. Seems I’m getting pretty comfortable with this snorkeling thing by now, or just determined.
What follows rates as easily one of the greatest experiences of my life. I swim until I am right above her, so close I could almost reach out and touch her. I can see the detail of her shell and her flippers slowly raising up and down again to propel her through the aqua water. She’s not fast, like she’s just out for a relaxed afternoon stroll. For about 20 seconds I swim with her, keeping her pace, watching her. There is only the sound of the water lapping around my ears and my breathing to break the underwater silence. And then I hang back, and watch her swim away, not wanting to distress her by staying too close for too long. A Nurse Shark crosses her path as she maintains her casual pace.
My mask is leaking again as I swim back to join the others and Shane sees me empty it, yet again. He pulls his own mask off and hands it to me, telling me he can’t let me not have fun. I think the issue is that the strap of mine keeps sliding on my hair, breaking the seal. The strap on Shane’s is different and it doesn’t leak.
Nonetheless I am happy to sit the next stop, another area of coral, out and happily wait on the rocking boat with a couple of the other girls who partied perhaps a little hard last night and are feeling somewhat worse for wear. The rocking of the waves isn’t helping matters.
The Sunken Barge
Our last snorkeling stop is a sunken barge, and I jump eagerly back into the water. It lies perhaps no more than a couple of metres below the surface, a rusted rectangle punctuated with holes leading into cavities below which one of the guides free dives in and out of. Its surface has become like another ocean floor, layered with sand it is dotted with seaweed dancing back and forth with the water as I swim the perimeter. There is something eerie about it, and once I have swum the perimeter I do not linger, and I return to the boat ahead of the others.
After our included lunch, and more rum punch, both of which the hungover abstain from, we make the trip back to Caye Caulker, as the snorkeling part of our day is finished. We have time to shower and freshen up before we meet back at the office for the next installment. After a day in the sun smothered in sunscreen the shower is heavenly.
Beach bonfire at sunset
For our final adventure we are loaded back on the boat and pause on the water to watch the sun as it begins to set over the ocean. The effects of light on water is one of my great photographic fascinations and I am still busily capturing the light creating silhouettes of boats when ours moves again.
The boat pulls up at wooden pier at the end of the island before dusk, with still plenty of light to see ahead of us is a small sandy beach, and beyond that a clearing with scattered palms supporting hammocks between them. A bonfire is already roaring with chairs set out around it. A rough wooden hut elevated from the ground by stilts sits to the left, a ramp leading up to what would be the doorway, if there were a door. Reggae music comes from a small Bluetooth speaker.
Beach Bonfire
We are handed cups of rum punch from a large, for want of a better word, plastic barrel, and chips complete with a ceviche served in a plastic crate I’d normally pack my camping gear in. I learn three things very quickly;
There is some sort of sandfly here and they are everywhere
They hurt!
My aeroguard and parakito band is absolutely useless against them.
The boys tell us they get better after it gets dark, and that they are worse near the trees. I move immediately into the open but it does little to curb their enthusiasm for nibbling at my feet and ankles. I don’t notice a difference immediately it gets dark either, but at some point the painful biting seems to stop.
In the darkness beyond the fire we can now see we are surrounded by tiny hovering lights that I’ve never seen before. Captain Keith confirms they are fireflies when I ask and several of us stand watching them for a time. I tried to record them but their light was too faint to distinguish from the background.
The rum punch continues to flow, my cup refilled every time it approaches the bottom, and the air is filled with laughter and chatting. We stay perhaps a couple of hours before the desire for dinner leads us back to the boats to leave the quiet serenity behind.
Serenity
I have lobster for dinner, again, still not a rival to my first two nights in Belize, and I manage to head to the sports club with the others for the grand total of about 15minutes before my day in the sun has caught up with me and I leave them to their dancing to stumble tiredly to my room.
If you are looking for Belize snorkeling excursions from Caye Caulker, Stressless Tours are definitely worth a look. They have an eco-friendly focus and are passionate about conservation and education. They’ll also take great care of you!
If something a little more daring is up your alley, you can also go scuba diving in the great blue hole.
7am that morning saw most of us, those going to the ATM cave anyway, rocking up to the restaurant where we’d had dinner with suitcases in tow and packs on backs. The restaurant is directly across from the company taking us to the cave in about 45 minutes and one by one we start piling our bags in front of Mayawalk‘s closed front door.
Compared to last nights dinner the breakfast was pretty average. The coffee even more so. I miss Guatemalan coffee.
The guides arrive as we are finishing up and a mini-bus starts reversing up the lane. They’ll drive us straight from the ATM cave to Belize City to catch the Water Taxi to Caye Caulker this afternoon. We load up our bags on the trailer and all pile in, a sea of boardshorts in anticipation of the river crossings we know we’ll be tackling this morning. At my feet are some dry clothes, and my sneakers. Something resembling crocs that we all spent ages trying on last night, await me wherever it is we’re going. They are far from a comfortable fit but were the best I could find, a choice I hope I am not suffering for later.
We aren’t allowed to take anything into the ATM cave with us, phones and cameras included. About five years ago one of the tourist visitors to the cave dropped her camera. Not much of an issue you might think, except it landed on the skull of one of the skeletons inside the cave. It survived a thousand years or so, until modern technology punched a hole through it. I wonder if the she felt bad about that, or if it was treated with a modern nonchalance. They tell us the ATM cave was closed for years after that to protect it, but they eventually decided it was too important a site not to share and it was reopened. Now you can’t take in anything that could be dropped.
Part of our package includes a stock set of photos that we are allowed to use on social media. Not as artistic as the ones I might have taken myself perhaps, testing out the new waterproof pouch for my phone, but them’s the breaks. Pardon the pun.
About an hour, and many digs at last nights karaoke stars who had outed themselves and each other over the grumbles and laughter at breakfast, we pulled up to the beginning of the trail. Here there is shelter, toilets and running water. The last we will see for a while once we depart for the ATM cave so naturally it is where we all head. Then comes the business of getting geared up. We all find our croc-shoes and are dispensed life jackets and helmets. The law prescribes that there has to be a maximum of eight guests with each guide, so we are split between two of them, and three Canadians join my group. The guide has an accent but his English is good. He looks like the actor Pete Postlethwaite and this is all I can think of when I look at him. Only a small number of people are approved to be guides for this site.
Trekking to Actun Tunichil Muknal
ATM stands for Actun Tunichil Muknal, meaning The Cave of the Crystal Sepulchre. It is under a mountain in the Tapir Mountain Nature Reserve and is a famous Mayan archaeological site containing both artefacts and a number of skeletons within its chambers. I have no watch and my phone is waiting back at the van so there is no way to know how much time passes hiking through the jungle. According to internet sources it is about an hour but it doesn’t feel anything like that long. The trek includes three river crossings, each with a rope strung across the flowing water to hold or pull yourself along if needed. I wade into the beginning of the first but it quickly becomes evident that it is going to be too deep so I tuck my water bottle in the front of my life jacket and go for it. The life jacket proves to be an impediment to effective movement so the rope turns out to be quite useful. Halfway across my water bottle shoots up out of my jacket with its desire to float, fortunately it is fixed by carabiner to one of the straps otherwise it would have been bobbing off on an adventure downstream. The water is cool but refreshing and not at all unpleasant in the warmth of the morning. The holes in the shoes mean that water passes straight out so it is only my socks squelching underfoot. However it also means that the small pebbles and sand of the riverbed are let in, and they don’t pass through so easily.
The next two river crossings are ankle to shin depth, though we’re all drenched now anyway so it didn’t really matter. I’ve been chatting to the Canadians about the property market in Australia of all things. One of the women is older, she’s traveling with her son and another female companion. I never caught any of their names.
The cave of the Crystal Sepulchre
Eventually we reach a clearing with a couple of permanent shelters erected. Pete gestures to the bushes where a short distance away we can see the mountain within which is the entrance to the ATM cave. He tells us to leave behind our water bottles to retrieve upon exit. My bottle is not a disposable one like some of the others so I place it between some tree roots where I hope it will be concealed from view. Pete points to some more bushes, telling us they are the lava-trees with a chuckle at his own joke. When no one takes him up on the invitation he leads us to the mouth of the ATM cave.
Someone must keep it cleared, it isn’t hard to imagine the foliage taking over if left untended for a time, concealing the entry from view. It is dark and uninviting, as most caves are I suppose. A stream flows out into a pool which our path leads into. Pete tells us that at some times of the year the ATM cave is dry throughout. As we find, in January there is plenty of water. We all switch on our head lamps in readiness and led by Pete we all wade through the pool and clamber over some rocks just inside the entrance. Then its time to swim.
The pool leads us around the corner from the entrance, and the light from outside no longer reaches us. A fact demonstrated by Pete when he tells us all to stand still and switch off our lamps. We are instantly plunged into a darkness so thorough I cannot even see my hand in front of my face. Pete apparently has spare batteries if anyone’s lamp dies. On cue we all turn our lamps back on and follow him along the sandy floor. So far so good.
Hours pass inside that place and I cannot say how far we traveled nor how deep. Parts we swim, parts we walk or wade, and parts we climb. The climbing doesn’t phase me, my rock climbing experience comes in handy in picking the best routes over the obstacles. Being towards the back for much of the time I find Pete is excellent at guiding you over when up front near him, but those at the back are largely left to find their own way. On a number of occasions I felt the pressure of multiple people following behind me, and no ones example to follow in front. The exception was the final climb into the upper chamber, where Pete, perched on a rock gave instructions where each foot should be placed to safely reach the top. My height and climbing experience meant I did this with ease.
However, I struggled in the tight passages, feeling the air and the rocks a suffocating atmosphere around me. One part of the passage was named the Decapitation, a narrow passage between rocks wide enough for a neck to pass through. You had to go through with your body underneath and head above and slide your neck in between, holding your life jacket down and out of the way to leave enough space. After demonstrating Pete was on the other side encouraging us through. I slid through painfully slow, holding onto my life jacket as I tried to breathe slowly and controlled, feeling the rock against the front of my neck. Relaying it now people ask me why, if there’s room for your body underneath, you wouldn’t just go under completely. In dry periods you probably could, however the rock meets the water, and if your buoyancy vest is functional then you wouldn’t be able to get down enough into the water to move under it. Guess you trust that someone who does it every day knows the way it needs to be done. I’m not looking forward to tackling it again on the way back.
At several points through the trek we pause for Pete to show us earthenware left and explain the Mayan ceremony they were used for. They are all broken, not by time but by the Mayan themselves, as they believed if left complete they could house souls and spirits. The Maya used caves because they believed it brought them closer to the gods and some relics are well beyond the reach of the light. They feared to come so deep believing it the gateway to the underworld, that they came so far into the ATM cave speaks of the seriousness of the rituals and their increasing desperation. Many date back to the same time when changed weather patterns prevented the Maya from cultivating the crops required to feed their population, and the rituals were likely praying to the gods to bring them rain. It must have been terrifying to venture down here with only the light of a burning torch as a guide, without the knowledge of where the next footstep might land.
Our foray culminates within the upper chamber, where we must remove our shoes to walk on designated points of the rocks in only our socks to prevent damaging the cave floor. Despite the huge expanse of the chamber and its high ceiling, the air is stifling and thick and one of our group borders on panic saying she can’t breathe. I’m struggling myself but helping to calm her gives me something to focus on instead. One of my shoes has been painfully compressing a toenail since early in the cave, and it is somewhat of a relief to remove the pressure.
The Belize Crystal Maiden
The cave also contains a number of skeletons, more than what we are shown but we see a few of them. Several are children, while some of the Mayan skulls belong to those from noble birth, demonstrated by their flattened foreheads. We squeeze through some passages and past groups coming the other way to reach the most famous and spectacular, the Crystal Maiden, from which the cave derives its name. Her skeleton is complete, still laid in the same position in which she died, encrusted with calcite over a thousand years to give her a crystalline appearance. She was believed to be twenty years old, and was sacrificed to appease the gods. It’s a pretty amazing thing to be looking at in that deep, dark place within the earth and I am grateful for the experience, but I can’t wait to get into the sunlight again and breathe air carried on the wind instead of trapped under a mountain. So I am happy when we turn back to start the trek out. I have no idea how long we have been in the dark.
Much of the path back looks unfamiliar, its hard to get the full picture of a place by the light of a few head lamps, so there is no retracing my steps across the rocks when there is no one in front to follow. At one point I know we deviate onto a different route, a narrow passage just wide enough for us to bob along sideways in the water, our hand pressed against the rock to keep moving. I don’t recognize the decapitation from the other side when we get to it, and I can’t see how to get through, trying multiple times to angle my head or squeeze myself under with increasing panic and desperation to get out. Finally I throw my hands up in defeat and refusal and push myself back in the water to let others pass, trying to calm my breathing and heart. I watched how the others did it and attempted it again after a few others had gone through, this time the older Canadian woman was nearby encouraging me softly and I was relieved to reach the other side.
It all looks different coming from the other direction, and I am surprised at how soon I turn a corner in the water to find the light streaming ahead and scramble up the rocks to stand on solid ground in the open air. The pain in my toe makes it hard not to limp and I fall further and further behind on the hike back to the starting point, wondering what creatures might leap from the jungle path to ambush a solitary walker. By the time I make it back there is a shower free into to which I eagerly leap. My toe is red and swollen down to the first knuckle, it seems the shoe has been bending it backwards.
On to Caye Caulker
The included lunch is tasty, if somewhat hurried due to our appointment with this afternoons water taxi. We’ve been gone over four hours. We’re ushered into our bus to commence our journey to Belize City. We arrive a little before 4pm, Dani had arrived shortly before on the public bus with the member of our group that didn’t come to the ATM cave. With some time to kill before the taxi we sit down at a café in the terminal and I order a coffee, but their machine isn’t working. It seems like a good time to start drinking and I order a cocktail which, by the time it arrives I have to gulp down in order to head to the boat.
Most of the group heads upstairs, but I’m happy on the open part of the lower level where I can watch Belize City disappear into the distance behind us as the sun sets over it. I’ve learned from our last trip on a boat and my jumper is tied around my waist. It’s not long before I’ve put it on. It takes about 45 minutes to get to Caye Caulker. By the time we arrive dusk has set in and we send our bags ahead on a taxi and walk the sandy street to our hotel. I take note of the laundry service we pass on the way. No doubt we’ll all be visiting there tomorrow, myself included.
There is time to freshen up before we meet in the hotel lobby for a briefing on the optional activity for tomorrow, another one which fills me with trepidation which I am still undecided upon. Dani introduces us to Captain Keith.
Keith has a boundless energy and enthusiasm for his island and its surrounding water habitats, and it is impossible not to be drawn in by the musical lilt of his speech, though the speed with which he talks and his accent mean everyone is only catching every few words, but we’re carried along anyway. His company, Stressless Tours, does the approach to the local snorkeling trip a little differently to other vendors on the island. Instead of a big sailing boat, pretty but slow, meaning we’ll only see one or two of the spots the area has to offer, we’ll be on a speedboat, meaning we can cover off all the local marine sites of interest. He also has a beachfront property, and offers a sunset bonfire on his private beach with plenty of rum punch to go around.
I have never been a strong swimmer, and didn’t even learn to swim until I was an older child. And I’ve never been able to swim with my head under water. I’ve tried, but something happens and I am unable to regulate my breathing and match it to the rhythm of the strokes, culminating in hyperventilation and breathing in water. I swim freestyle, but my head stays above water. At some point snorkeling had the same effect, which degenerated into a sense of complete panic at trying to breathe through the tube with control. The thought of being in open water terrified me.
But I was charmed, and it sounded like an experience that would be a shame to miss out upon. And I liked their sustainable, eco-friendly business model. I resolved to try, even if it meant that I only spent the day on the boat. I handed over my deposit to Keith.
Dani took us to a busy place for dinner and many of us ordered the lobster, including myself naturally. It took its time arriving, but it was worth it. It was only grilled, but the meat was the most flavourful I could remember having in my life. I was hard pushed to make a decision which was better, this or last nights.
All around the restaurant visitors have graffitied the paintwork of the walls and beams of the building. Someone asks for a marker which is then waved around waiting for someone to volunteer. When no one takes it I grab it and stand on the seat to leave our mark on a blank space of a beam supporting the corrugated iron roof. The marker is crap, sinking into the layers of paint rather than smoothly writing upon them and I have to go over and over each stroke for the writing to show up, carved into the paint. I write the name of our tour and each of our names. I wish I’d taken a photo, I couldn’t even tell you where it was.
Somewhere, in a beachside restaurant in Caye Caulker Belize, is a beam with my name on it.
After dinner we ended up in the local sports club, cramped and full of people as it seems to be the only place to party on the island. It is the birthday of one of our group and she’s pulled up to dance with some guy, and later invited to walk along the bar pouring shots into the upturned mouths of the waiting crowd, myself included. Well it seems to be a trip for trying new things, may as well add that to the list!
Today we visit Tikal, and we want to beat as many tourists as we can so departure is 6am. We’ll be stopping for breakfast on the way. Later today we will cross the border into Belize where we will be spending the next four nights.
Breakfast was one of the better ones I’ve had in Guatemala. Eggs are a staple and these are served similarly to how I make mine. The toilets are concealed behind a hanging curtain, and we giggle over the lack of privacy awarded to bathrooms in this country.
We’ve arrived to the Mayan ruins of Tikal before 8am where we are greeted by our guide, Juan. Guatemalans are already manning their stalls in readiness for the days influx of visitors, but other than a few scattered people we are the only ones. Tikal is a major tourist destination and it won’t stay that way for long.
The City of Tikal
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The Ancient Mayan City of Tikal
Tikal flourished as one of the largest Mayan cities, which according to UNESCO was inhabited from the 6th Century BC to the 10th Century AD. It was eventually mysteriously abandoned by its Mayan civilisation, the last dated tablet in 889 AD. Tikal was discovered by modern archaeology in the Petén Province of Northern Guatemala in 1848. It was opened to the public in 1955 and declared a UNESCO site in 1979. The meaning of Tikal is ‘in the lagoon’ but it is known as ‘the place of the spirit voices’.
In front of the entrance to Tikal a large, white, to-scale model shows the expanse of the site that includes more than 3000 structures in its entirety. Juan spends some time pointing out the key locations on the model we’ll be going today and explaining the sophisticated constructions providing a water supply to the city. At least eight separate reservoirs were constructed and water was filtered with sand brought from a distance away. It’s a feat of engineering that enabled the city to thrive as it did for so long.
The residential part of the city itself covers an estimated 65 km², of which a large proportion has not been excavated or mapped. The land of the city extended to an area of 120 km². The core 16 km² of the city has been extensively mapped and excavated but the ruins are situated in the middle of the jungle through which visitors must walk between locations. Archaeologists believe it once rivalled Rome in size.
Agriculture at Tikal
Juan is a bottomless font of information and never stops talking the entire walk. His knowledge and passion for Tikal shines through. On our way to the first stop he is telling us about the evidence that supports the fact that the Mayans cultivated crops here in Tikal.
Aside from their impressive structures to store and direct water, soil analysis has been able to pinpoint areas of forest land cleared and used for growing crops, as well as irrigation, orchards and terraced structures. Scientists have also been able to identify that maize, beans, squash and root vegetables were grown at Tikal. Evidence has also been found suggesting cacao might have been grown. The ability to produce undoubtedly allowed the population of Tikal to swell beyond its ability to sustain itself, a key theory proposed to explain what happened to the Mayan civilisation of Tikal.
Tikal Wildlife
The map/guide I have purchased lists the local birdlife found in Tikal; Toucans, Vultures (though they seem to be everywhere else too) Woodpeckers, Parrots, Golden Oriole, Great Curassow, Occellated Turkey, Chachalaca and the North Jacana. There are also Howler and Spider Monkeys, Wild pigs, Coatis and Jaguars. While unlikely that we’ll be running into a Jaguar (we can hope) I am excited by the prospect of seeing some monkeys! We don’t have to wait long before they make an appearance, Spider Monkey’s are rustling in the trees above the clearing of our first stop.
Just hanging around
It is on our way to the Great Plaza that I, having abandoned my attempts to perfect the timing to capture a photo of a Spider Monkey leaping between the trees, instead change my strategy to video and am rewarded with a fabulous recording of a monkey scurrying down a tree then launching into another one with its arms spread wide.
A Coati makes itself known at one of the temples, sniffing around the base of the stone steps of the top level, likely looking for food dropped by careless visitors. Juan tells me this would likely be a male, as the Coati society is matriarchal and the females kick the males out of their groups.
The Structures of Tikal
The Q Complex twin pyramids
According to LiveScience, the twin pyramid complexes were constructed by the rulers of Tikal to mark the passing of every 20-year period, starting as early as 672 AD. Each pyramid has a flat top with a staircase on each side and would be built adjacent to each other. The space between the pyramids formed a plaza. Nine twin pyramid complexes have been discovered so far in Tikal. Four other twin pyramid complexes have been found at other locations.
The East Pyramid of Complex Q
Our first stop on our walk of Tikal is one of these, a complex of four pyramids known simply as ‘Q’. This is the biggest complex of twin pyramids in Tikal and was associated with King Yax Nuun Ayiin II. On
the map this is shown as four pyramids but all we can see is the East one, in good condition, with a row of nine stone altars, or stela, lined up at it’s base. We are allowed to climb the stone stairs, which most of us do, admiring the view of the jungle canopy from the top. As with Teotihuacan in Mexico it is a careful climb down. Juan explains that the city is built on platforms elevated
from ground level, and points out the edge of the one we are standing on, camouflaged by the jungle foliage. He also explains that each pyramid has a twin built on the same platform. The twin for this one belongs to the jungle still. After one of the pyramids collapsed during excavation they have become cautious of further excavations, and only one of the four in this complex is visible to us.
A Pyramid reclaimed
This spot also houses a large stone tablet, Stela 22, fenced in and protected by a thatched roof. More Spider Monkey’s leap in the trees behind it as Juan explains that each of the tablets found at the site tell a story, this one is about a king and a ceremonial sacrifice.
Temple IV; the Two-headed Snake Temple
We continue through the jungle to Temple IV, or the Two-headed Snake Temple, famous for it’s use in seven seconds of footage from the original Star Wars film. It is still recognizable as the same scene, Temple III poking its top out from the jungle ceiling and Temple I and II beyond. Built around 741 AD, the top is reached by a mammoth set of wooden stairs built beside the temple, it’s tough but I’ll take them over the stone steps of the pyramids any day. At seventy metres tall the temple is the tallest still standing in Tikal and in all Mesoamerica. It is mind boggling to think of the ingenuity required to build a stone structure this high in 740 AD. The view from the top is worth the climb and most of us sit for a while to take it in.
For the Star Wars fans
Temple IV was built to mark the reign of Yik’in Chan K’awiil and archaeologists believe his tomb lies somewhere beneath it.
The Great Pyramid
We move along the path to a part of the city named the Plaza of the Great Pyramid, but referred to as the Mundo Perdido, or ‘The Lost World.’ Juan tells us this is after the Sir Arthur Conan-Doyle novel. The Great Pyramid is the oldest building in Tikal dating to around 600BC. Standing 31 metres tall with ten levels, from the top the other large temples in the city can be seen. All the temples are constructed on an axis to line up together and are placed according to the position of the sun at the Equinox. They were the resting place of kings.
The Great PyramidView of the other temples from the top
The Sloping Panel Temple
The other structure in the Mundo Perdido is the Sloping Panel temple, which has clear architectural influence from Teotihuacan, supporting evidence of trade relations between the two cities. It is the only temple at Tikal which uses this style of architecture. It stands 22 metres high.
The Sloping Panel Temple
Temple III; The Temple of the Jaguar Priest
The base of Temple III is buried in foliage and as such the best view is from the Great Pyramid or Temple IV. It can be seen emerging from the jungle canopy on the left of the below photo.
Temple III stands approximately 55 metres high and faces towards the Great Plaza. It dates to 810AD and is likely the funeral temple of the king Dark Sun. It was the last temple pyramid to be built at Tikal and differs from the others in that it has only two rooms at the top instead of three.
With a zoom camera, Temple IV offers a view of Temple III from behind as it is seen in the Star Wars scene.
The Grand Plaza
We walk past Temple III, buried in foliage, towards the Grand Plaza, considered the most important part of the site and the most impressive demonstration of the architecture. The buildings were built over a period of more than a thousand years. The plaza is the largest clearing we’ve yet seen, bordered by Temples I and II, the North Acropolis and the Central Acropolis. Behind the Central Acropolis lies the South Acropolis, which has not been excavated. Temple V lies behind the Central Acropolis.
The panorama below is taken from the Central Acropolis. The North Acropolis is straight in front with Temple I on the right and Temple II on the left.
The North Acropolis
The North Acropolis was the burial ground for the rulers of Tikal for more than five centuries, several members of the noble class have been found within. The remains of nobles are always evident because of their elongated foreheads. The Mayan’s wrapped skulls from birth until the age of 18 months to extend them while the bones are still soft. The North Acropolis is also the oldest part of the settlement along with the Lost World. The North Acropolis was occupied at least 1500 years.
The North Acropolis
Juan sends us off to explore, telling us with a sly wink that most tourists don’t know that at the top of the North Acropolis is a window with a view looking straight to Temple IV and we’ll get the best photo from the site. A number of us make a beeline for the Acropolis, searching every window of each of the buildings. It is eventually located by a member of our group at the top of the rear building.
By the time we’ve climbed up and down every part of the North Acropolis I am breathing heavily, and welcome the flat ground of the clearing. There are excavations taking place at the base, but it is hard to see the subject of them beyond the scaffolding. The platform of the North Acropolis holds eight funerary temples built over more than 300 years, and engraved stela describe the history of the governors.
View from the North Acropolis with Temple I on the left
The Central Acropolis
The Central Acropolis was the residential part of the plaza, inhabited by the royal family and their relatives. It is a maze of hallways, courtyards and palaces comprising 45 buildings which was added to over the years.
Within the Central Acropolis, Temple I and the North Acropolis can be seen behind
I wander over the grass to the Central Acropolis. Within the walls is another large clearing, surrounded by rooms built into the stone structures.
Despite the heat of the day it is quite cool within them, the structures are specifically designed to create an air flow that cools them down. Many of the rooms used as bedrooms have inbuilt stone platforms which served as beds. The Mayans were not tall it seems.
The place is a maze of passages and rooms and I eventually find myself at the top of the structure off to the side of where I entered, looking down at the stone and grass below.
A curvature is evident to this part of the Central Acropolis when viewed from behind.
Temple I
Temples I and II stand above the grass of the Grand Plaza clearing, both built by Governor Jasaw Chan K’awiil, whose tomb lies within Temple I, around 700 AD.
Temple I is comprised of nine tiers, which represent the nine levels of the underworld. It stands 37 metres above the grass clearing. It is known as the Big Jaguar due to a carving on top of the pyramid which depicts a king on a Jaguar throne.
Temple I
Temple II is known as the Mascarones Temple, and the carvings contained within are said to resemble his wife. It can be seen in the panorama photo above but I unfortunately ran out of time to take a closer look at it.
What happened to Tikal?
As Juan leads us on the path out, he explains that how they now know that a combination of decades of poor weather had left the Mayans unable to cultivate the food needed to support a growing population. There was rebellion, and sacrifices of the leaders, their skeletons identifiable as leaders by their flattened foreheads. Unfortunately for the citizens, with the leaders went their knowledge. Eventually the city was empty, its citizens departing for greener pastures or dying in the arid place Tikal had become, to be reclaimed in time by the Guatemalan jungle.
How to get to Tikal
The closest large town is the island of Flores, 66 kilometres away. If you don’t have a car and are not joining a Tikal day trip that departs from Flores you can catch a local bus or public minibus for less than $15 for the approximately two hour journey.
The first thing to realise about visiting Tikal is that it is immense, and you are not going to see it all in one day. So whether you are short on time like I was, or have the luxury of being able to take your time, I’d recommend taking a tour because there is so much to know about Tikal that you wouldn’t learn on your own.
If you have the luxury of time, check out the experience of staying in Jungle accommodation available at Tikal and explore the site at your leisure. Tikal sunrise tours and Tikal sunset tours are also available, however the extended hours of the park that enable this are only accessible with a guide. Tikal is otherwise open from 6am – 6pm.
There is an entrance fee of US$4.20 for the museums, which are separate to the park entrance fee of approximately US$22 per person per day.
Tikal Accommodation
Hotel Jungle Lodge
The Hotel Jungle Lodge offers a pool and onsite restaurant and bungalow accommodation with private bathrooms. Airport transfers are available and the hotel can make all tour arrangements for you.
A cheaper alternative to the Hotel Jungle Lodge, the Hotel Tikal Inn also features a pool and onsite restaurant with thatched cottage accommodation offering rainforest views. Airport transfers are available and the hotel can make all tour arrangements for you.
The budget option, the Junge Lodge Hostal offers double or twin rooms with shared toilet facilities and on the edge of the jungle. There is an onsite pool and restaurant and airport transfers are available.
If you are interested in reading more about the history and architecture of Tikal, Uncovered History is a great resource and was really helpful in filling in some of the details for me. You can also check out the official Tikal site.
From Tikal to Belize
There is no time for gift purchases when we exit, but we stop for lunch at a hotel on a gorgeous lake and while some of the others swim I browse the store there, ticking another few gifts off the list as well as a three wise monkeys statue for myself. I’ve seen it many times so it is obviously a common design over here.
The border crossing into Belize is smooth. Our bus isn’t coming through with us so we need to carry everything through to reload onto our new bus on the Belizean side. Our destination for the evening is San Ignacio, where I will need to make a decision on the optional activity for tomorrow, the ATM cave. The idea makes me incredibly uncomfortable, but I keep hearing about how amazing the experience is and it’s the highlight of everyone’s trip. The alternative is sleeping in and catching the public bus to make the trip of several hours to the water taxi that will take us across the sea to Caye Caulker. I’m still uncertain as we sit listening to the guide explaining the day, but I take a breath and remind myself that it is something I wouldn’t get to do at home and I should suck in the experience. With a lump in my chest I tell them I’m in.
Dinner that night is a short distance from the hotel, and I have the first lobster of the trip. Lobster is my absolute favourite food. It also happens to be my mothers. Growing up whenever it was one of our birthdays the birthday meal of choice would always be lobster. I also always like to eat seafood when I’m on the coast, so when I saw lobster on the menu it was a no brainer. I usually go for a mornay but that’s not an option, here it is served in a garlic butter and it was seriously amazing. The meat is tender and full of flavor and it is like no other I’ve had before. It’s also a generous serve. Some of the others are looking enviously on as I close my eyes and savour the taste with a contented sigh, and understand when I share some with them, vowing to order it themselves the following night.
We have to pay extra to use electricity in our room since it is expensive in Belize. While we are able to be comfortable with the ceiling fan, our sleep is instead disturbed by nearby karaoke. I mumble to Ruth that I bet its some of our group, which as it happened turned out to be the case.
Day 13; Leaving Rio Dulce with my sneakers in my hand
The weather has made a dramatic turn around today. Yesterday’s cloud cover and seeping rain is nowhere to be seen. The view from the hammock of our balcony this morning was lovely. It was a shame we couldn’t stay one more day to enjoy Tortugal. And dry my sneakers, in a bag at my feet still damp from yesterday’s sodden adventures. Today we leave for a single night in Flores with the luxury of a sleep in. It was cold overnight, the air flowing into our cabin through the open air gaps between the walls and roof. The lack of adequate blankets on the bed and in the rooms reveal the climate they are used to accommodating here.
More lush green countryside is rushing past the windows of our minivan. I finally have my music working after downloading an app yesterday so I am happily plugged in, even though I’ve had to create a playlist again.
Guatemalans work the land as we pass. Men lead donkeys carrying planks of trees on each sides of their bellies. Scrawny horses rip up grass at the roads edge while chickens peck at the ground and men carry sacks on their shoulders. Thatched huts and ramshackle buildings dot the landscape. To us the huts may appear cute and quaint and we love the idea of a visit, but we can leave. It is easy to forget that this is where the locals live full-time and lack the creature comforts we have at home paid for by our jobs in air-conditioned offices. These people do back breaking work on the land just to feed their families.
Today we cross into another department of Guatemala, what we’d call states in Australia. Tomorrow we will depart Flores to cross over into Belize.
We hit Flores a little after midday. The main part of our hotel is a lovely oasis on the lake with a deck stretching along it and a small pool. The colours of the town of Flores are directly across from us. Some of the others are excited by the pool, I’m excited by the espresso machine after Tortugal’s brewed coffee. Priorities.
Dani proposes a walk across the lake into town for lunch, or we can hang out by the pool until we check in. Some quiet relaxation in the cool breeze by the lake sounds like a perfect way to spend an afternoon to me. I order a coffee and settle on down, as do a few of my fellow group members. We idly chat and watch the wildlife, learning that according to Google there are in fact two species of crocodile that live in the lake. And they that don’t look particularly small. We don’t see any, but swimming all of a sudden doesn’t seem like such a hot idea. There is a ferris wheel and some sort of tents off to the side of the lake so it appears the carnival is in town. A couple of us order food, a banana nutella crepe and a Cappuccino for me!
The afternoon passes in this way, as the others drift back they join us at various times. We all take the walk into town for dinner once evening falls, walking alongside the road over the lake to the town we could see from our afternoon vantage point. Music and the babble of people reaches us from all directions. Five of us stay out for another drink after dinner, sitting in a club nodding along to Reggaeton music. Hayley and Pip pose with some of the prolific local police for photos on the walk back to the hotel. We didn’t stay out late but we needn’t have bothered attempting to get an early night, seems Flores is a bit of a party town and the party was loud and clear from the rooms where we were trying to sleep. Somehow, at some point, I managed to.
Today the sun is shining and it is pleasantly warm. We have a boat trip planned to a town called Livingston. There we will learn about Garifuna culture and sample a traditional Guatemalan dish called Tapado, made from seafood and coconut milk. Both of which I am a fan.
A boat trip on Lake Izabal
I manage to board the boat without incident, an improvement on my efforts of yesterday which have earned me a corker of a bruise across the back of my thigh reminiscent of the time I caught my leg in the rope abseiling down a rock wall. I take my seat on the side of one of the benches towards the back beside Ruth.
Castillo de San Felipe
We first trundle pleasantly a short distance from our hotels dock to see the Castillo de San Felipe. The Spanish Colonial fort once protected the port from pirate attacks and sits on the narrowest point of the lake. Tourists are able to visit the fort and walk within its walls, but today we have to make do with the view from our position on the lake.
We go past and turn back again, the motor of the boat put-put-putting, and pause again at a mangrove island in the middle of the lake. I’m not sure it really meets the definition of an island, as there is no land visible just the roots of the mangroves. Great Egrets inhabit the mangroves, the white birds perched throughout the trees. Numerous posts poke out of the water, where new mangroves have been planted to extend the perimeter of the island. The government does not want this island to disappear.
Egrets and Mangrove Island
We rapidly accelerate to head for Livingston. It takes me all of five minutes to regret my decision not to bring a jumper or jacket as the air rushes over me carrying fine spray from the lakes surface. I hope for a quick trip.
It’s not.
I put my head down into the wind and fold my arms in close to defend against the buffeting air. Ruth is doing much the same beside me.
It is, however, picturesque. We slow down to look at the rainforest vegetation we’re traveling through, occasionally interrupted by a stilted hut perched over the water, often with a small canoe or boat moored nearby. The huts are clearly inhabited, and are only accessible by the lake. Our driver says there are freshwater crocodiles here and I keep my eyes peeled on the waters edge searching for a glimpse. He says they don’t come around to the more densely populated part of the lake, but it doesn’t sell me on the idea of swimming. We emerge around the corner onto a wide part of the lake they call the mirror, reflecting the jungle and sky onto its still surface.
The Mirror
The soggy drizzle which has been falling becomes more emphatic.
It is entirely miserable by the time we’ve returned to the main part of the lake to continue speeding on our way. We are all drenched, the boats roof offers minimal defense. Ruth huddles on the floor in front of our bench, using the bench in front as a barrier from the rain and spray coming from the front. I’ve considered the same, but she’s a little smaller than I am.
I hear a rustling and something is passed over my head. Someone tells me to grab on.
A tarp has been passed over by the driver, and is being stretched over.
I clamp my left hand against one of the poles fixing the roof to the boat, pinning down my edge. Around me the others are doing the same, the ones in the middle holding it above our heads. The wind still floods through weakness in our defenses, the tarp flaps and billows noisily around my ears. But we’re dry.
And we must look utterly ridiculous. A boat speeding down the lake, twelve people huddled under a flapping black tarp, a driver standing at the back. I cannot help but laugh at the image and the others join me. We may look ridiculous but we’re dry and we’re having a great old time!
Livingston
The boat eventually slows and the tarp is pulled back to reveal Livingston. It looks much the same as Rio Dulce, though perhaps more of a fishing village. On our way through town Dani ducks into a local store to see if they have any ponchos for sale. Rain is expected the rest of the day and most of us aren’t wearing anything waterproof. Dani speaks rapidly in Spanish. They have no ponchos but they remove large garbage bags from under the counter and cut along both sides. Dani measures these up against us and rips a hole for our heads. Our raincoats cost five Quetzals. I am wearing a garbage bag. It only adds to the overall ridiculousness of the day.
Yes…I am wearing a garbage bagPhoto: C.Martin
Dani leads us to the spot at which we will be meeting ‘the professor’ who we’ll be spending time with today. The professor is a music teacher, who teaches the Livingston children about their Garifuna history and culture through music and dance. It not only keeps the culture alive, but it keeps the kids off the street and out of trouble. It’s a term I’ve not heard before, Garifuna are the mixed race descendants of African, European and Caribbean people. They have resided in Central America since the 1700’s.
Some local children are playing soccer with a slightly flat ball on a basketball court nearby. We watch them smiling and laughing and running around, and Shane joins in the game. I notice an older child waving what appears to be a gun around on the other side of the court, several of the others have too and we exchange wide-eyed looks. He points it at another child and I am relieved to see it is a toy.
The Garifuna drums
A child arrives and leads us to a nearby set of steps. At the top is a small room with a number of children. They are surrounded by bright colours and instruments, predominantly drums of various shapes and sizes. We are invited to sit around the room. I end up behind a large drum.
The professor is perhaps in his early 30’s, and would fit right in back home in his black jeans, red flannelette and a black beanie. Five local boys of varying ages wearing shorts and t-shirts sit around him with instruments, two of them drums that sit on the floor. Another boy has two turtle shells strung around his neck which he hits with a stick. Two other boys have what appear to be some kind of Maracas. There are also two girls, one older and one younger, dressed in the brightly coloured local dress.
Photo: C.Martin
The professor and the boys demonstrate the Garifuna music, while the girls take turns in dancing both solo and with some of the boys. They are incredibly cute. Then its our turn to learn some beats, and we all shuffle around until everyone has access to an instrument. The professor demonstrates and instructs which beat he’d like us all to play. We all seem to get the rhythm and hang of it fairly quickly, with a few giggles to punctuate.
And then the professor demonstrates the dance and I watch closely. It is largely based on hip movement driven from the knees and is pretty close to one of the Samba steps, which I am not actually any good at largely due to my inability to master the basic step at anything resembling speed. Some of the other steps however I can do, including the one close to this. He gets us all up on our feet and we jostle for the limited floor space. Latin dance starts on the right foot, so I have to consciously keep thinking about starting on the left. The kids grab some of us to dance in the middle of the very crowded room. The young girl grabs my hand.
Time flies by and all too quickly it is done. We leave some money in the tip jar to help the professor keep working with the kids.
Tapado
The restaurant looks like it has been thrown together from leftovers and scraps. There’s a good chance it has. The rain continues to bounce on the roof of corrugated iron as we strip off our coats and garbage bags.
I order both the local specialties; the Tapado and a Coco Loco – a fresh young coconut cut open with rum added. The rum in mine is not overpowering, but some of the others find theirs very strong. The Tapado is essentially a soup. It comes with a full fish on the plate beside it, scales, head, eyes and all. It doesn’t take much digging to discover that the soup contains every bit of it’s seafood ingredients too. At first
Tapado, fish and all
I extract the bits of tails, and fins, and shells, but eventually I give up and just scoop the liquid from the bowl. Despite its plethora of non-edible contents it is incredibly tasty.
My garbage bag offers surprising defense against the cold air on the boat trip back, once I have wound it tightly around me to seal the gaps. The tarp is passed over my head once again. It is pulled back as we travel through a picturesque canyon and we don’t bother putting it back up again.
The afternoon passes at the Tortugal bar. An ever expanding group appears for the ridiculously cheap cocktails and we play dominoes into the evening.
4am hurts even more than 4.30am. More so because that was our actual departure time, my alarm actually went off at 3.20! Today we depart Antigua for another Guatemalan destination, the waterfront Rio Dulce.
We are speeding through the countryside in a minivan with a cracked windscreen. At least it has seatbelts. On both sides of the road mountains loom stern and foreboding, dotted with patches of green, many tops concealed by cloud. The side of the road is a rotating landscape of trees, fields, houses and locals hopeful of selling their produce. It is still only 9am.
The litter strewn along the road is a sad indication of human presence. We have passed actual vultures picking over it on several occasions. They are sometimes joined by the odd dog. Large boulders sit beside the road where their downhill force has come to a rest. Landslides are common, especially in wet season.
The road is single lane each way and there’s a lunacy to overtaking. Cars poke noses out from lines of traffic on a regular basis, choosing their moment and flooring it into the lane of oncoming traffic for as many vehicles as they can. There is also a courtesy present. As soon as a car appears heading towards the overtaker, the overtakees make space for you to move back in, with often a honk exchanged to indicate gratitude. We’ve had so many close calls with oncoming vehicles, getting out of the way just in time. Every time it happens the Australians on the bus exchange wide eyed looks and shake our heads with a nervous half smile.
We’ve just passed a couple of properties with children’s clothes hanging on the fence along the road. I’m unsure whether this is taking advantage of a sunny location or some form of giveaway or exchange.
Other than a stop for a tasty breakfast with not so tasty coffee, and a couple of toilet stops we’ve been driving all morning. Our guide, Dani, has warned us that Rio Dulce is not a safe town. Other than organised group activities we’ll be staying in our hotel. All we know about our hotel is that we reach it by boat. We’re not going straight to our hotel, since it is still early we’ll be dropping off our luggage in Rio Dulce and going to a hot springs another 45 minutes drive. Its around 1pm when we get to Rio Dulce. After watching our bags loaded onto a boat we are led to the local supermarket to purchase a picnic lunch of sorts.
Supermarkets sell alcohol here. My backpack contains the wine from days ago so I pass it by with merely a glance. I’m amused to see my deodorant under a different brand name. Good to know I can replace it if I run out. There are a few tourists milling around, most of the people we see appear to be local to Rio Dulce.
I pick out some fruit and other snacks for lunch and some large chips to share while the other members of the group pick out assorted food and drink. They make you buy your plastic bags. At the bus our group leader has secured an eski filled with ice and we pile in our drinks.
Finca el Paraiso
Finca el Paraiso is a private property and we pay a small fee to enter. Children linger around holding their hands out for coins, but we are advised not to encourage this behaviour. Despite the eski’s weight the local guide hefts it onto his shoulder. We change and use the toilet before we set off on the path through the jungle to the spring.
The path is ridiculously slippery and I’m thankful for the grip of my sneakers when some of the others slide about in their thongs. The final set of steps are installed into the path, and the railing is a saviour on the damp wood.
At the bottom of the steps the spring comes into view. Water rushes over a wall of rocks landing with a roar in the pool below. A number of people are swimming or standing beneath the falls. On first glance it appears that mist is rising from the falls as they hit the pool below, but it is actually steam.
Volcanic activity heats the water rushing over the rocks at Finca el Paraiso below the ground. It falls into cool water below, creating a refreshing place to take an afternoon swim. Sitting under the falls is like taking a hot shower, while hovering a little distance away is like sitting in a warm bath. The water becomes cooler the further the distance from the falls. I’m not much of a water baby but the spot is irresistible, and I clamber over the slippery rocks to plunge in behind the others. It is a remarkable sensation, moving through the chill water growing gradually warmer, until you perch on the rocks below the falls letting the hot water pour over you on its journey down.
A young local man shows Shane from our group a series of three caves under the falls, and persuades him to climb to the top and jump off. A few locals jump in the time we are there. My heart breaks for a stray dog hunting round for scraps of food left behind or dropped by visitors. She is skeletal and clearly feeding a litter and we are all distressed by seeing her. The guide keeps shooing her away. We have nothing nutritious to give her but we slip her what we can when the guide isn’t looking. By the time we pack up and leave a chill has arrived in the air.
Tortugal
Our Rio Dulce hotel for the next two nights is called Tortugal. Dani has talked it up as being the best accommodation of the trip. It is only accessible by boat on the shores of Lake Izabal. The hotel will be the only option we have to eat, but we are reassured that the food is good. When we get there we find it really is quite exquisite. With my exceptional coordination I manage to catch my leg on the rope attempting to climb out of the boat. I fall ungracefully onto the seat behind me to a chorus of uproarious laughter from Shane, who extends his hand to help me out on my next attempt.
The whole place has a rustic Robinson Crusoe desert island castaway feel to it. A series of huts and buildings all built with wooden logs with a tin roof. It is literally on Guatemala’s largest lake, Lake Izabal, the main dining and recreational area extends over the waters edge on stilts. The huts are spread around the property. Shane is in the honeymoon suite, stashed out in the jungle.
Jungle huts!
The hut Ruth and I have is closest to the water off to the side of the restaurant building. It contains two luxurious queen beds, a small bathroom and our own deck looking out over the water with a hammock stretching from one side to another, along with a 2 seater lounge and coffee table. The floor in the room is concrete which extends into the bathroom. The shower has concrete walls and a drain dropping straight to the ground below. The shower is the best since Mexico City, although it is fixed to the wall and unable to be adjusted. A great height for Ruth, but for me not so much, and I have to bend my knees to wash my hair. A strip of something like chicken wire runs between the walls of the hut and its roof. The wire runs the full perimeter of the hut and is about 20cms in height. Hence the hut is unable to be entirely closed off from the elements outside. Lucky its warm, especially given there are only sheets on the bed.
Home for a couple of days
As promised the restaurant is very good, although the coffee not so much and I am missing the coffee from Fernando’s in Antigua. Tortugal has no TV and no music. Guests entertain themselves with conversation, admiration of the sun reflecting off the lake stretching before them, or with the collection of board games available off to one side. There is a resident very large and drooling dog by the name of Heffe, who is never far from the restaurant, and a couple of tiny cats who appear from time to time that Ruth and I pat at every opportunity.
If you’re in Rio Dulce and seeking more adventure, a day trip to Semuc Champey is well regarded.
I’m awake well before my alarm. Since tossing and turning doesn’t seem conducive to getting back to sleep I figure I’ll just get up.
When I emerge from the room there is a line of people going into the dining room for breakfast. I know I have to pay for breakfast here but otherwise have no clue whats going on. I ask a girl standing in line what the arrangements for breakfast are, she just shrugs and says no idea. So I join the end of the line and dish myself up some scrambled eggs from the waiting hot tray. With no seats in the room I take my plate and sit on the couch outside. Before too long one of the staff is pointing and gesturing me back into the room while talking in Spanish.
In the dining room I am shown to a seat that’s been stuck at the end of a long table. There is no one in my group here. No one speaks to me and I feel decidedly out of place. Glancing around the room most of them appear to be wearing the same shirt. It dawns on me I appear to have crashed some other groups breakfast. This is confirmed when I walk past the reception desk and the attendant asks me if I am with Intrepid. He tells me my group doesn’t have breakfast included and asks me to pay. I hand over my $6 US (so wasn’t worth it) and ask what time Fernando’s opens, he tells me 7am.
Its 6.55am so I set off down the street and grab two takeaway coffees. It’s Ruth’s birthday but I cant find any pastry shops open to get her something tasty. A coffee will have to do.
We’re outside waiting for our shuttle pickup to Atitlan before 8am as instructed. But…Guatemalan time. By the time 8.45 rolled around I was uneasy and ready to bail on the whole idea. I had no sooner turned to Ruth and said ‘at what point do we give up and go do something else for the day’ than the shuttle van bumped along around the corner.
Given my propensity for motion sickness I always sit as close to the front as I can so I nab the first available seat. It is more like three quarters of a seat, and located next to a couple who feel a periodic urge to noisily show their affections for each other. Ruth is somewhere up the back deep in boisterous conversation with some fellow travelers of various accents. It seems people mostly go to Lake Atitlan to spend a few days. The father of one guy on the bus has a house there, so he is descending with a few people he met at a hostel. I wonder about the wisdom of this venture in a day, especially with our tour departing Antigua at 4am the following morning. That does nothing to help my unease.
With nothing to do except observe the countryside and the driver and listen to grabs of conversation from the back it is a very long two hour trip.
Our first glimpses of Lake Atitlan come as the van comes around a corner and commences a winding journey to the bottom. Crystal clear it reflects the mountains positioned around it to the sky, each bend bringing it back into view as we wind lower down the mountain towards the town of Panajachel. The van weaves and turns through crowded streets lined with market stalls filled with local wares. Later inspection reveals them to be more of the same, just stamped with the name of a different town. One of the Spanish speaking passengers tells Ruth that the driver says our pickup point is a travel agency beginning with X. I vaguely remember passing it.
When the van door opens just after 11am a number of people are crowding the door. I step through and stand off to the side to wait for Ruth. She gets off the bus and is immediately engaged in conversation with one of the men who was waiting at the door. She walks off beside him. He tells her, and me following behind, that this is the pickup point for the shuttle back to Antigua. He leads us through streets down to the water. I follow a couple of metres behind, wondering why Ruth is going with this guy and who he is. She explained later that she hadn’t seen him waiting at the van door and had thought he was a fellow passenger being helpful.
The whole confusion was largely our own creation. Unlike most of the other things we had planned and done, we are woefully and inadequately prepared for this adventure to Atitlan. Hence we were unprepared with the knowledge needed to prevent being taken advantage of. After our experience with organised tours in Mexico City we had declined the organised tour which departed Antigua at 5.30am in favour of taking the shuttle and doing our own thing. Hindsight is such a wonderful thing.
So this guy starts talking about us getting on his boat. I stop him with ‘hang on a second, who are you?’ He explains he is a local guide and comprehension dawns – he’s rustling up business for himself. So we tell him which villages we are interested in going to. He explains the times involved in journeys across the lake and says he’ll take us for one hundred. I’m not entirely comfortable with the idea but we’ve come here to experience the area so we agree and follow him to his boat. Just as we are about to hop on I ask him to clarify which currency the price is in. Turns out its $100 US, which neither Ruth or I have. We tell him we don’t have that money and leave.
It’s not long before another boat owner is chasing us down to get our business. Again he quotes an extortionate price to the islands we want to visit. He quotes a reduced amount of $75 US to go to the villages that would have been included in the tour if we’d taken it. He also tells us we’ve missed the public boat. So if we want to do anything on the lake hiring a boat seems to be our only option.
I tell him we need to discuss it and we walk away. We have been walking only a few moments when he catches us again. This time he offers to take the two of us for the $75, which he brings down even further to 500 Quetzals. I still feel uneasy and my mind is racing ahead to all of the things that can go wrong. But we haven’t come all this way on our last day in Antigua to do nothing either so Ruth and I exchange an uncertain glance, and we agree.
His name is Daniel and it is his boat. But he’s sending us off with his brother, who it transpires speaks not a word of English. Daniel asks for his payment. I am deeply mistrustful so tell him we will pay half now and half when we are safely returned to the port. He doesn’t like it much, but he agrees and Ruth hands him 300 Quetzals. There is no way I am going to end up stranded on the other side of the lake with them demanding more money to take me back across. This is the best strategy I could come up with.
The colourful streets of Santa Catarina
Now don’t get me wrong, Lake Atitlan and its surrounds are very pretty. Had I had the luxury of more time and better preparation my experience would probably have been a different one. The first town he took us to was Santa Catarina, which pretty enough given its bright colours and designs painted all over the buildings. We took a wander through an artists gallery and strolled along the stalls selling the same tourist stuff we’d seen everywhere else, despite the women sitting on the ground weaving. The patterns used are largely the same it seems. Then our allotted 25 minutes was up (that one had been hard to convey, I had only learned the numbers to twenty. I eventually typed the number in my phone calculator.) and then we were off to the next one.
The town around the next corner, San Antonio Palopo, was lacking the colour, and in some cases structural integrity of those in Santa Catarina. They appear more like the temporary villages seen in Africa erected with corrugated iron and whatever materials happen to be available. We are not enthused about being here and I think I manage to agree with our driver we will be back in 15 minutes. As we disembark the boat a pre-teen boy is chattering away at us. But he disappears when he realises we aren’t going to pay him to take us anywhere. Probably a deal struck with the local boat owners. I survey the nearby water to satisfy myself there are other boat options available should we be abandoned here.
Local women washing clothes in the lake
We wander up the street and take some photos of the lake. 15 minutes later we’re waiting on the dock to leave again. Our driver manages to say ‘ceramic factory’ and points up the hill. This rings a bell, I remember hearing there was a ceramics factory somewhere on the lake. I have no intention of lugging ceramics across four countries and I want to be back to the town where our bus back to Antigua departs. ‘Panajachel’ I say and he points some more. ‘Panajachel’ I say again and he eventually nods and says ‘ok’
All up we’ve paid about $68 US for the two of us to have a boat ride on Lake Atitlan for approximately 90 minutes with someone who couldn’t tell us anything about where we were. We’ve handed over all the Quetzals the both of us have. It probably wasn’t all that bad, but we both feel ripped off by the experience. Still, we’re on dry land again and in the town where the shuttle picks us up.
Not a bad view for lunch!
All I want to do by this time is have a meal and a cocktail or three. We end up at hotel Posado de Don Rodrigo, which is the pickup point according to our ticket. There is quite a pleasant view over Lake Atitlan and we kill most of the time until the shuttle there. We do attempt to find the travel agency the first driver said was the pickup point to no avail. A woman with excellent English at another agency confirmed we should wait at the place stated on our ticket and that we should be there early because they wouldn’t wait for us.
The shuttle arrived early with the driver asking for me by name. The most relaxed I felt all day was taking my seat on that bus! Due to traffic we had a slightly longer trip home. We arrived, exhausted, just before 7pm with the prospect of repacking ahead of us.
My advice if you intend to visit Lake Atitlan is to do your research and be prepared. If you’re only thinking about a day trip you’re probably better off on the organised tour.
You can find some options for booking a more organised Atitlan experience with some tours below. You can also read about my experience hiking Volcan Pacaya.
I am thankful for investing time into packing my bags last night, this morning all that remains is my pyjamas, toiletries and the contents of the rooms lockbox which will go in my small pack anyway.
Ruth still isn’t well poor thing, so I enjoy the final included breakfast alone. We join our Intrepid tour this evening so we will be leaving the comforts of Hotel Candelaria for a hotel in town. I haven’t worked out how we’re getting there yet.
I set off early on the direct route into town, noting the turn I had missed the previous day, with the intention of finalising our tickets for our trip to Lake Atitlan tomorrow and booking a chocolate workshop for the afternoon. However all I actually have time to do is drop off laundry and finalise Atitlan, with a smidge of time left to pop by Fernando’s for a coffee before digging out my map to locate the pickup point for the coffee tour.
Naturally I needn’t have worried, as with every other pickup this trip they run on their own schedule of time and are twenty-five minutes late. Checkout is 1pm and the travel agency told me the coffee tour is an hour so I’m not concerned.
Now for anyone who doesn’t know me, it is probably pretty evident by now that I love my coffee. For anyone who missed the memo let me hold up a neon sign for you.
I love coffee!
I’m a two cup per day minimum, more if I’m not working or actually need to sleep at a sensible time. My morning doesn’t begin without coffee and I don’t drink the crap stuff. Unless I am desperate and there is nothing else available. Consuming coffee is the service I do everyone around me.
Hence it’s no real surprise that given the chance I want to go to a coffee plantation.
But enough about me…
A coffee journey
Apparently we are going on a safari
A vehicle something like an African safari bus finally arrives to collect me and proceeds to bump along the Antiguan streets. It is a short trip to the coffee plantation in the next town. We soon pull up to the entrance of a grand sprawling estate that resembles something straight out of a movie. We trundle in through the gates and along the dirt driveway, stopping in front of a building housing a restaurant, gift shop and reception where a few of the passengers from my bus are handing over money. An attendant fastens a band around my wrist when I show my ticket. A man who turns out to be our guide ushers us back onto the bus, which he drives along the dirt roads of the property. We climb down when we stop in front of large bushes weighed down with berries.
Where does coffee come from?
Coffee beans are found within the berries of certain species of the Coffea plant, native to the African continent. The finest quality of the species is Arabica, which originated in Ethiopia and is the species almost exclusively grown in Guatemala. Coffee is one of Guatemala’s primary exports and it is 9th in the world for exporting coffee. Coffee is grown across the majority of the country, and Antigua is probably the best known of Guatemala’s coffee growing regions.
The hero of our story begins life as a berry on the green Coffea bush, shaded by the branches of the Australian Native Grevillea tree. The large Grevillea trees stand between groups of the Arabica bushes, their shade protecting the berries from ripening too fast. Harvest runs from November to March, the berries turning a bright red upon ripening. It will take about five years to get a harvest from a bush. Every couple of weeks each section will be re-harvested to get newly ripened berries. Our guide tells us to each pick two red berries from the bushes nearby and I select the two reddest I can find. Our guide walks by our outstretched hands, inspecting our efforts seriously. He tells us we can all show up for work as pickers the next morning.
He demonstrates how to hold the berries in our fists and squeeze them against each other to pop the seed from the flesh of the berry. The berry juice runs across my palm as mine dutifully pop out of their fruity protection. He explains that the berries are always picked in the morning and de-husked the same afternoon, as the flesh will ferment the bean if it is left on. He tells us to put the seed in our mouths and I find it to be surprisingly sweet. This is the layer of membrane that sits over the coffee bean, which is hard between my teeth. Under the membrane is a husk that needs to dry before it can be removed. I am unable to scrape it off with my teeth or fingernail.
The berries are used for composting or making coffee jam. The dried membrane is broken up and used as a layer in the stables as an alternative to sawdust. On this plantation nothing is wasted.
We all discard our berries in the dirt of the grove. These ones will not finish life as a cup full of rich brown goodness but perhaps become more bushes themselves.
Washing and sorting coffee beans
Back at the buildings, one of them turns out to be full of machinery and contraptions. One of these sends the beans swirling through channels of water. The water separates the beans from the berry while sorting according to quality. The red berries, good and ripe, will sink to the bottom while the bad or unripe fruit will float. The floating berries are used for lower quality blends of coffee while the red will make the best.
The fruit of the berry is removed by pushing them through a screen, leaving the bean surrounded by the silver skin and the parchment.
Drying Coffee beans
Our hero then spends several days basking in the Guatemalan sun of the Filadelfia Plantation’s courtyard while he dries and staff lovingly rake the lines of beans to ensure they dry thoroughly. They need to be raked every six hours or so to ensure they dry evenly and do not grow mildew. Since it may take up to four weeks for the beans to dry to the required moisture level for the next stage, it is fortunate that harvest season is also the dry season. This is a critical stage of the process as it will effect the quality of the end product. Over dried beans will become brittle and will break in the next stage, while beans that are too moist will be prone to attack from bacteria.
The roasting shed smelt AMAZING!
Hulling the coffee beans
Once dry he will join his fellow beans in another machine that removes the last of the fruit from the bean. In the above picture some of the beans have broken free of their husks while drying. The hulling process will leave behind the green bean which is the final product that will get exported or sold to roasters. The farm can also roast their own beans, but only do this for local sale.
By the time we get to the tasting part of the tour it is almost 1. So much for an hour tour! The coffee must be pretty good though, I don’t drink my coffee black but this one was still drinkable.
If you are interested in a tour of Filadelfia Coffee Plantation these can be purchased at any of the number of tourist stands scattered throughout Antigua. As an alternative, Intrepid run a day tour that also incorporates visits to the local markets and some of the local sites. You can book here.
coffee evolution
It was after 1.30 by the time I had briskly walked back to our hotel.
I found Ruth packed and ready. No one had told her to leave, and they didn’t seem at all fussed at the lateness when I went to settle the bill. The man at the front desk, who I assume was the owner/manager, asked if we had our transfer organised. I confessed, embarrassed, that we were moving to another hotel, explaining we were commencing an intrepid tour and our accommodation was included. He said he would be happy to take us there if we gave him a moment to get someone to cover him. The new hotel was across town, Ruth wasn’t 100% and we both had bags that weren’t going to be fun on a long walk. I didn’t know how we would get there yet, so I jumped at the generous offer.
He chatted with us on the way, telling us he lived out of town with his wife and daughters. The rent is too expensive for Guatemalans in Antigua, most of them live out of town and travel in. He dropped us at the door of our hotel. If you’re ever looking for a place in Antigua make sure you check out Hotel Candelaria!
I liked that our new hotel put food and water out for Antigua’s many stray dogs. And it was a short walk to Fernando’s. Still, I was glad we hadn’t spent our extra days there.
Ruth was feeling up to some activity so we head to Fernando’s for some lunch and stock up on chocolate and coffee. I am now carrying nearly two kilograms of roasted coffee beans in my pack for the rest of my trip. Not that I can actually make espresso with it when I get back until I’ve bought a new machine. I hope my bag will protect it from the heat and it survives the travels yet to come.
We then take a wander through town aiming for the chocolate museum, where the workshop we have now missed is in progress. Luckily I hadn’t booked the afternoon session, since I was still on a coffee tour. We sample some of the chocolate (not as good as Fernando’s in my opinion) and browse the artisan stands out the back. Most of it looks the same to me, but I do find a lovely soft scarf in my favourite colour that I have been keeping a watch for.
At 6.30 we take a seat in the area laid out for our introductory tour briefing. We are one of the first but one by one the chairs start to fill.
There are eleven of us all up. Mostly Australian, one older Swiss-German woman, one woman from France and an English woman. Of the Australians we are mostly teachers. Our guide is a Guatemalan woman. And there is a single, solitary man, although he doesn’t seem overly bothered by that fact!
After our briefing we head out for a group dinner and I see the first salsa dancing since leaving Mexico. I smile remembering my early days learning to dance listening to the lesson going on in the next room. As we leave to head back to our hotel I can see experienced dancers on the floor.
You can check out more tours and activities for Antigua below, including a couple of options for coffee plantation tours. You can also read about my experience hiking Volcan Pacaya and my visit to Lake Atitlan.
