Semuk Champey

I’ve got an awesome bruise on the inside of my right bicep. It’s been there for a few days now, and I’m not sure how I got it. My best guess is in the Cave of the Crystal Maiden. I just noticed another one on my left leg.

The roosters are going nuts early in the morning all around the town. After so many hours, even the earplugs don’t keep them out. We didn’t book a shuttle for the trip to Semuk Champey because I figured  we could just hitch a ride from the main road with as many shuttles and trucks as I figured would be going that way. Unfortunately, most of the people going to semuk champey stayed closer to the pools at the resorts. I prefer to stay in the area where I am not forced to eat whatever food the resort will provide and have no place to explore. That being, this choice means I gave up the free shuttle to the pools and will pay 20Q for Jimmy to arrange a shuttle for me.

The shuttlecraft is common to Central America. It is basically the same people mover/ delivery truck that is used to move, drinks, groceries, humans, etc, from anywhere to anywhere. Addison and I stand up in the back of the truck like the North American lookie-loos that we are and smile and wave at all the locals that I’m relatively sure think that we are retarded.  I saw my first Central American with down syndrome, though he looked very much like the rest of the locals, so it may have been somewhat of a mild case, if such a thing exists. Every man seems to be carrying a machete. A surprising number of women in all age ranges have pots of every size balanced squarely on their heads as they walk up and down the wild mountain paths. Mostly, it is the very young that smile back, but at least half wave in return. The ride to Semuk is longer that it should be. It’s only 9 kilometers, but it seems to take nearly half an hour. Along the way we pass a sketchy looking guest house, and two others, Las Marias and El Portal, that seem quite nice for being in the middle of the jungle. El Portal is 100 meters or so from the entrance to Semuk Champey.

The restaurant at El Portal serves mostly typical fare food, but adds coffee to the line-up which has me excited. I ask for some but the guide informs me that I would have to get it to go, and that isn’t an option. So, the group sits there for almost another 30 minutes while the guides and hostel workers talk. After everyone has had their fill of chat and food, the guide Edgar rounds us all up and we take off for the entrance to the protected area. We pay 50Q for entrance and I sign my name as Robert Marley in the register. The Scotsman in the bunch, also named David, looks at it and asks if people often call me Bob. I feel inclined to explain since we will be hanging out all day.

Edgar has expressed concern over my choice of havaianas as footwear. I was under the impression we would be going to a series of pools and hanging out in a big river. Apparently this involves a 1.2 kilometer hike up some of the most treacherous terrain I have seen; mud, sharp rocks, and wet leaves all up the side of the mountain. Anyone going to Semuk Champey, bring some good walking shoes and a waterproof bag. If you can avoid it, you don’t want to leave your valuables on the side of the stream.

Semuk Champey is beautiful and unique. There is no doubt about it. The water was a little bit low, so diving from some of the places was not allowed, but others were just fine. I took my scuba camera with me and got some fun shots of us goofing off. I dropped it in one of the deeper sections of the pools and had to go diving for it. After that I clipped it onto one of my havaianas and it floated quite well.

Take a look at some of the pics.

Long and short of it, if you have time and are in Guatemala, go check out the pools. With 20Q ($2.50USD) you get the guide that shows you some huge rocks to jump off of and breaks out the tubes for you to enjoy the river, then shows you the rope swing.

After all that, then we went to the cueva de vela, the candle cave. Basically, they have wild guides like Carlos, who give you some candles, light them up, then take you about ¼ mile underground through some caves full of water. There is a lot of swimming and climbing involved, so imagine swimming in a subterranean river with only one hand because you are trying to hold a candle out of the water with the other one. If that doesn’t sound like fun to you, then give the caves a pass. There are some skietchy places where it looks like someone just taped a ladder to a piece of rock and you have to climb up or down it into pitch black. The reward at the end is that you can finally get to a quite large cavern where the brave can climb up the rock walls to some ledges up high and do some underground cliff jumping into the pools below; again, perhaps not for the faint of heart. I loved every second of it.

Finally after a very long day, we grabbed the cattle car back into Lanquin and I went shopping for some dinner to cook up at Hotel Cacao. For about 11Q I bought 6 eggs and three tomatoes and cooked them up with some picante that Jimmy had, then ate it with three rolls from the local bakery. It was delicious and very filling and cost less than half of what any meal in any restaurant in town would cost. Jimmy’s wife, Francis, just spent the entire night testing the limits of my Spanish. Thankfully, whether I actually understood or not really made little difference to her.

In the morning, the crazy rooster woke me up again, and I learned from Jimmy that he starts at 5 a.m. and will continue to crow until he notices someone is awake (me) and then he chills out. So it’s like a game of endurance. Whoever can stay in bed longer gets to keep sleeping after someone finally gets up. The shuttle comes at 8 a.m. but I am not there because I am hunting the post office. The postmaster was quite helpful, though I’m not sure that means that the postcards will ever get there. Anyone who gets one, drop me a line and let me know they made it.

The shuttle ride is packed as usual. I spend much of the 7 hours listening to my Spanish immersion mp3s and I have to say, I think they are helping quite a bit. We passed some interesting scenery, and even passed through a desert that mirrored much of the southwestern United States. I can now say from personal experience if you have the option, stay the hell away from Guatemala City. It is a cacophony of environmental hazard crossed with constant life-threatening danger. I would rather have a cannibal for a roommate than spend one day in that city.

Antigua, on the other hand, is beautiful. The outer regions of the city are what you would expect, but much of the downtown area is beautifully painted and the cobblestone streets are as quaint as the are dangerous. This is what happens when you walk around in your flip-flops without looking at the ground. Ouch.