Festivities, history and adventure had kept us in the area of Antigua, Guatemala for longer than we had planned. Both Bart and I could have enjoyed ourselves there longer, but there was more of Central America to see and we only had a limited amount of time.
So we headed Southeast towards Belize; the next country on our list. But first, we had a few more highlights to check off our bucket list. The first: Semuc Champey, a famous river, which is a natural pit stop for backpackers in Guatemala. It is not an easy place to get to. We took an eight-hour shuttle-bus ride from Antigua to Coban, an unremarkable town. You can take tours to see Semuc Champey from here but most backpackers, including ourselves, make the effort to take another bumpy hour ride to Lanquin, a tiny village which is closer to the attractions of the area and nestled in a gorgeous valley between the Guatemalan highlands.
I noticed that the village must’ve only grown in the last few years due to the increasing tourism. Besides a few newly built shops, restaurants and guesthouses, there wasn’t much. When we got out of the bus a crowd formed around us; each person trying to convince us to stay at a number of different places for the night. I was happy that I had already made reservations. By recommendation of some friends I had made in Nicaragua, I had booked a room at a hostel called Zephyr Lodge. We found a young man holding up a ‘Zephyr Lodge‘ sign above his hand and followed him to a large pickup truck more fit for cattle than for travellers.
Luckily this ride was just a few minutes and eager to relax, have a drink and eat, we checked ourselves in. To our delight due to a mix-up we got a free upgrade to a very nice private room! A shower later and a cocktail in hand, we watched the sun disappear behind the mountains surrounding us.
We booked a tour with the hostel to see Semuc Champey the next morning. I was nervous because besides hiking to Semuc Champey we were going to climb and swim into a cave system nearby. I think caves are fascinating but the idea of navigating through possibly tight and dark spaces scared me.
With two-dozen other backpackers staying at our hostel we were piled into the ‘cattle-truck’, a half an hour bumpy and loud ride later we had arrived. Our guides who were young and energetic told us to leave everything but our swimming gear behind and led us to the dark cave entrance.
To light our way we didn’t receive a torch, but a long white candle that our guides lit for us one by one; telling us to follow him in a single-file line. While we entered the caves, another guide smeared our faces with mud in various designs. Painted faces, candles lit, we quietly followed one and other into the depths of a cave; it seemed like more of a cult-procession than a tour. Who was going to be sacrificed at the end? I told Bart to walk in front of me.
At times the cave and the pools of water would get deeper, forcing us to swim while holding our candle out of the water; other times steep rocks walls appeared before us and ropes and ladders were used to climb over them. Eventually, we got to the end of our route.
Sacrifices might not have been a tradition in the caves but our guide did show us a rock altar where ancient Mayans once performed sacred rituals. The Maya people believe that the cave is the "heart of heaven" where the secrets of many centuries are held. Close to this rock a large, deep pool had formed, Bart and a few other brave participants climbed up the slippery formations and dropped themselves into the pool.
I was proud that I had done the cave tour and although it was not as scary as I had thought, I was still happy when I saw sunlight. After a much-appreciated meal, our guides took the large group up a steep path made of steps, ladders and boulders; it was humid and I almost yearned for the cool waters of the cave once again. It had been a long journey of bus-rides & hikes but when we walked around our last corner and saw the mystical river-system Semuc Shampey, we understood why so may backpackers do so.
A turquoise collection of tiered pools atop a natural limestone bridge flowed amidst a wild jungle. It was a sight picked right out of storybooks with tales of nymphs and fairies. When we got our fill of the top-view we raced down the other side of the slope so we could take a closer, and wetter, look.
Once below, we swam in the water, jumped from the rocks and slid down the mini-waterfalls to get from pool to pool. Once we had explored enough we sat on the slippery rocks, letting the tiny river fish nibble at our feet while we enjoyed the sun. We ended the perfect day with pizza and games at the hostel and prepared to go on another adventure in the morning.
Back in Lago Atitlan, I sat next to a young Guatemalan DJ who gave me vague directions to what he called ‘the most magical place in Guatemala: Laguna Lachua. I had found a blog or two online giving a better summary of how to get there, but being off the tourist route, we did not fully know what to expect. We took a bus into Coban, another crowded bus to an isolated gas station, and another very uncomfortable bus ride to the secluded entrance of the park in which the lake was situated.
The only two other landmarks in sight were small wooden shack selling basic food items and a small dusty guesthouse. It was already late in the day, I had heard that it was possible to rent a room next to the lake at a campsite, but hadn’t confirmed anything as yet. To our relief, we spotted a park ranger, who, as a bonus, was very welcoming and kind.
He explained that we could rent a room for cheap price. The hike would be about an hour and we had to take our own food and firewood in. He offered to lock our large backpacks in the park office so we only had to take the bare minimum. Excited, we put some extra clothing in Bart’s smaller rucksack and crossed the dirt road and then decided we could create pasta that night with the onions, Vienna sausages, tomato paste and the tomatoes (only two) that the little shack was selling. The same shack also sold us some firewood and a few litres of drinking water.
Supplies in hand, we hiked into the park. It was quiet and peaceful; the only sounds were the rustling of trees and an occasional bird-chirp. Semuc Champey had been the prettiest river I had ever seen, and when Bart and I caught the first glimpse of Laguna Lachua; it could very well be the prettiest lake. Glassy water stretched from our feet to faraway mountains that were reflected in the clear lake.
At the campsite a kind ranger and his family greeted us. We were the only people staying at the simple lodging. We took a quick dip before the sun set, making sure to stay close to the shore, as we were told crocodiles inhabit the deeper areas of the 220-meter deep lake. That night we had fun making dinner on the firewood stove while listening to the rush of the heavy rainforest showers pouring down on the zinc kitchen roof.
The next morning, knowing it would be a while before we caught a bus in this off-the-beaten-track destination, we got up early. The rain had not stopped yet, so we got a free shower on our hike back. We repacked our backpacks, put on some dry clothes and sat on a lonely wooden bench on the side of the road waiting to get a ride to our next stop in Guatemala.
Follow Laura’s travels on Instagram: @laurasxm or read more on her blog: www.laurabijnsdorp.com/blog
