Este Lugar ... Fabuloso
Finca de Paraiso
[22:07] [Monday, February 05, 2007]
We got a late start from our anchorage just outside of El Estor because Brady had to make a battery run into town. With our camera reloaded, we motored lazily along Izabal's north shore toward Finca de Paraiso, the working ranch through which we have to travel to reach Aguas Caliente. We anchored almost on top of the finca's lakeside cabanas and finished packing to head to the falls.
Our gear included snorkel sets, lifejacket, diving headlamps, flashlight, camera, video camera and underwater housing, cigarettes (of course), a couple cokes, a bottle of water and some cash just in case. We dinghied over to Sonatina to have a word with Peter and T, who have been here before and decided to take the day off to work a little on their boat (and watch ours), and then we headed ashore.
To ride a tractor through the finca to the falls costs Q80, which we had not brought with us, so we shrugged our shoulders and hiked it through the ranch. Except for the palapas and thatch-roofed huts, we might have been hiking through Texas hill country. Cows mozied lazily inside barbed-wire fenced plots, resting under trees and in tall grass. Chickens ran free beneath the barbed-wire and along the riverbank, clucking over their shoulders at us when we tried to get close. We even saw a couple howlers over one house, roaring with wild abandon. It is a beautiful walk, and I'm glad we didn't miss it rumbling along the road in a farm tractor.
We crossed the road through El Paraiso and ducked under some stretched barbed-wire at the direction of some local boys, and booked it along the river toward the sound of rushing water. As we rounded a bend in the rough path and caught our first glimpse of the falls, our breath caught in our throats. If not for all the gear on our shoulders, we might have taken off down the stairway at a run and leaped into the pool beneath the falls without a second thought. As it was, a guard beneath the steps stopped us as we headed down and asked for our ticket.
Ticket? We asked the cost and paid the guard Q10 each to visit the falls. Setting up "camp" on a mossy rock, we practically tore off our hiking clothes and, after snapping some pictures and prepping the video camera, dove in.
The water is so clear and so fresh! Steam rises from the hot waterfall, and the pool and river are springfed from underneath an outcropping of rock, so swimming through the pool is quite an interesting sensation. A gush of warm water will wash over you from the falls, followed immediately by the more prominent coolness of spring water swirling through the pool and on downstream. A school of translucent fish were quite friendly -- they scattered at first when I swam into them, but then came right up to my snorkel mask, poking their faces against the plastic.
Brady snorkeled the entirety of the pool with camera in hand and turned around to rest on our rock. He began asking the guard -- Eduardo -- about the caves in very broken Spanglish, deciphering a ticket price to travel to them but not much else. With the help of a few backpackers we gathered it was Q30 a person to go, but the guide who would normally take us was away at the moment.
We worked a deal with Eduardo and paid Q35 for the two of us to travel alone up the creek and rough (barely existent, even!!) path to the caves, called San Antonio. However, as we began to pack our gear to make the hike, he grew more and more nervous, telling us several times it was a dangerous trip to make alone. He grudgingly gave us an extended curfew of 4:30, but as we began to leave with our bags over our shoulders, Eduardo shook his head and handed us our money back. The backpacker helping to translate told us he could not let us go with all of our gear because it would be far too dangerous to make the trek alone through bandito territory.
Truth be told, I could not have been more comforted by this gesture. Eduardo said a few more times it was too dangerous and refused to take our money, and, crestfallen, we dropped our gear and proceeded to return to swimming beneath the roar of the waterfall. Brady had already got back in the water with the camera, and I was handing him his snorkel mask when Eduardo called us over with another guard in tow. He introduced us to Frederico (Rico), who he said would be our guide. This way, he said, we could get safely to the caves and back, and we could take our gear without having to worry.
After having made the trek, I cannot imagine trying to scoot our way to the caves alone. Even having been once, I would still want a guide with us a few visits to familiarize ourselves with the area. The "path" through the jungle to the caves is a barely-beaten walkway through overgrowth. Mud has been scraped carefully away from thick roots to create natural steps up and down deep inclines, and fallen trees have been anchored in the soft ground to help aid in the climb. These trees are rotting through, and often we found we could not rely on their help without risking a terrible stumble.
Rico made the trip without a single problem. Our guide had to be at least 50, and his brisk pace through the jungle left us rather exhausted every time we managed to catch up to him, waiting for us at the crest of a hill or the closest side of a bend in the path. He kept a sharp watch for what we can only assume were the fabled banditos, peering up into areas where the jungle and mountainside made a sort of valley, stopping every now and again to point out places where we needed to be extra careful.
Huffing and puffing, we arrived at the first of two caves. This one we could walk into, and a few carvings had faded into the front wall. Rico told us in the morning the sun shone through the trees and lit up the carvings perfectly. We crept into the little cave and got a look at some Guatemalan bats, then looked down the hill at our destination: the much larger cave San Antonio, into which we would have to swim.
Uncertain of the steep downhill climb, we asked Rico if I could make it, and after a moment's thought he nodded his head yes. Brady took the rear and I followed Rico down the steep slope, a trek that looked far more difficult than it really was, but again not a trip I would have liked to attempt without a guide. Our first good look at San Antonio was from slightly above, and -- WOW. The painstaking trip through jungle growth and mud was so, so worth it.
Crystal clear water flowed gently from the mouth of this cave, which quickly descended into pitch black. At the far end of the pool the water bottlenecked between some rock outcroppings and fell toward the falls. A ledge of marble-smooth stone inclined gently to the right, and the cave beckoned to our left. We prepped ourselves and the camera to head in, and Brady made the first jump into the water.
Frio! Just enough sunlight to see by trickled through the trees onto this pool, and the water was cold enough to make us cringe. We asked Rico if it was potable, and he smiled and nodded. Fresh, cool and even a little sweet, this water was better than potable. We turned on our headlamps and started into the cave, but it did not take long for me to realize I would not be able to enjoy an exploration of pitch dark unfamiliar territory. I shook my head and yelled at Brady to be careful, and floated on my back across the pool, gazing up at a deep green canopy.
I climbed up the gentle incline of smooth rock to listen to the falls. Deep gashes like knife marks slashed at diagonals across the rock, the only defacements on an otherwise glassy surface. I found the stone to be good footing despite its smoothness and sat back in solitude, cooled by the water on my skin and calmed by the dim light and distant roaring of the waterfall. As the sun dipped below the treeline, I climbed down the ledge to retrieve my snorkel gear and wait with Rico for Brady to emerge.
No sooner had I reached the water than I heard Brady gasping and exclaiming how great a time he'd had. Rico told us gently we had to prepare to leave before it started to get dark, and we began to pack our things. I cannot say I was terribly interested to explore the area behind Aguas Caliente before we found our guide and made the trip, but I can say now that had we not done it, we would have spent the rest of our lives wondering ... What if?
All of Guatemala is an undiscovered gem, with its rolling green mountains, its gentle waters, its warm people. There are so many stories spread of horrible experiences with theft and murder, and I wonder how many of these stories are actually just one incident twisted so many ways it becomes several terrible tales. It is enough to make even us nervous and careful about our position, but how anyone could come to this country and not see all that we have seen -- particularly the finca, the falls and the caves -- remains a mystery to me. There is so much beauty here it is difficult to comprehend, and it is even more difficult not to want to share.
