mist shrouded mountains and turquoise pool

After a number of days incommunicado I can get WiFi again.  We were in a very remote part of guatemala high in the mountains.  The only tourists who venture here are 20 year old backpackers who don't mind the 3 hour terror trip on winding  mountain roads barely large enough for a truck let alone two.  Then the hour drive at 10 km an hour or less all road covered with dirt and rock. It is a truly spine busting experience. Thus no hotels way up here: only party hostels.  A strange vista as you sit overlooking breathtaking mountains dotted with goats and jungle. Down on your left is  the pool with non functioning swim up bar and hot tub. The aussies make it their home. Staff start with techno and urban music blasting by 6 pm. The staff, all kids travelling stay for six weeks then move.

By 7 pm Frankie the young bartender from Manchester has already downed 6 tequila shots, all while on duty.

We managed to flag down a truck which acts as the local taxis. One cab and a large open platform with bars everywhere.  The mayans all climb in the back and stand holding onto the bars as the truck sans springs jolts and tosses the occupants into the air as it struggles up the clay rock roads.

today we had to sit in the back as there was no cab room.  Catherine and I and our packs were flying all over the place as the driver belted over the rubble roads. After  half hour I tapped on the window. My spine was done. I got into the cab where there were shocks and felt as if I was floating on a cloud.

it was then when I understood why no maya sit down the the back of the truck but stand and climb the various bars hanging there like actors in an avant garde play circa New York 1962.

Yesterday the 1 and a half hour drive the 8 km over breathtaking valleys; corn growing willy-nilly over the mountainsides.

We get to semuc champey. A brilliant river of turquoise pool after pool you climb up down and over, swimming in each soft sand bottomed step while tiny fish nip at your feet.

A look into eden.  Watching the steps of pools flow down onto you from the jungle above.

Later we go to watch hundreds of bats fly out of their cave homes at dusk for their breakfast. They are as thick as to resemble the masses of gnats that group over the roads in the evenings of the late canadian summer.

we start walking back to the hostel when it is getting too dark. A tuK tuK comes blasting around the bend at the top of a ridge. The young drivers flashes his lights and beeps. We crowd in beside the old Mayan man and his grandchild. The tween boy who acts as the cabbies secondo gives us the quarter seat and hangs off the side as we zoom along up to the hostel on the high hill where the tuK tuK stalls.

the cabbie asks his Mayan passengers to step out so he can get the gringos up the 90 degree hill to the hostel.

We jumped out. We can't be responsible for some mangled clutch or toasted gear box to get two gringos up hell hill.

at the hostel the techno and tequila has commenced

Man, I am tired.














The mayans all