Let Me Semuc in Your Champey
Originially written in 2016 for NYTravFest
The second country on my Meso American sojourn, in the Winter of 2015, was the monstrously underrated Guatemala. Throughout the two months I spent living in Mexico, all the backpackers I came across suggested staying in Guatemala. I debated for some time, until I found a little blurb about Semuc Champey, Lanquin nestled in a Lonely Planet travel book: Semuc Champey is the Q’equchi Maya translation for “where the river hides under the Earth.”
After my travel partner decided to skip this native, golden nugget and meet up later in Antigua, I endured a seven hour ride on the local bus to Coban. Ahh, sweet relief; paradise so close that I could taste it. Lanquin was within reach. But it wasn’t over — one more two hour ride and I could touch antiquity. Lanquin is a tiny town that caters mainly to backpackers and tourist groups and it was that base where travelers could head up the world’s bumpiest road to the two eco-hotels at the top of the mountain. Individuals have to finagle their way onto pickup trucks, driven by locals to the eco-hotels at the top. The trucks were a wondrous sight, yet they only graced the view at the base of the mountain every hour until sun down. Nothing moves quickly here.
Thirty minutes of rolling around the bed of a pickup with about eight people squeezing to allow room for bags, we passed dense forest littered with tiny shacks and roosters; we’d finally made it to Utopia when we saw the canopy of the forest. It was early evening and the darkness was deeper and more infinite than I had ever imagined. The lack of electricity in the evenings added to the allure; really put the “eco” in perspective.
The place was run by western expats and backpackers, but everything else about Semuc Champey + Lanquin including nearby caves was maintained by the Indigenous population that remained there. Locals view this landscape as sacred and work to keep it as such.
I happened upon breakfast the next morning with a Canadian and two Germans. We decided we liked each other enough to go together on the day’s adventure. We took a short ride from the hotel directly to the nature preserve that is Semuc and K’an Ba cave system. I practiced my Spanish with the driver while riding shotgun. Of course, as is my luck, he barely spoke Spanish and proceeded to teach me some Q’equchi. If this isn’t immersion, I have no idea what is!
Fortunately, it was only the four of us that were at the mouth of the grotto and we were able to snag a Spanish speaking tour guide. After a few rope swings and misses into the way-too-strong-of-a-current Rio de Cahabon, we started the icy descent into the abyss. We each had a single candle in one hand, Leo had a waterproof GoPro in his left, and the rest of us tried to simply pretend the water didn’t feel like the Atlantic in the middle of winter. Our tour guide led us in total Spanish and stopped only once to show us how to lift the candle’s fire to the rocks above in order to melt the minerals on top. We spread our fingertips over the area and added war paint to our faces, just like the Ancient Mayans. This singular moment moved easily into the top three anecdotal reasons as to why immersive travel is the best education one can hope for.
As our legs jerked furiously to keep our top halves afloat, we were enveloped almost entirely in darkness. Only the shrinking light of our candles kept us from blinking into oblivion. After maybe thirty minutes, we came to a small inner pool where there were lots of white faces ahead of us; scaling the ten foot crevasse in order to jump back off into the pool below. As the space was only the width of half a body length, I passed on that form of death. (The only way I can help you visualize this trek is if you see parts of the film, Sanctum.)
We each tipped our guide and meandered through the many pathways to find the entrance to Semuc, a nature preserve maintained by the department of Alta Verapaz.
Here are a few things I picked up along the way:
- Guatemalans go to these natural limestone infinity pools to play for the day and thus there were hoards of people at the entrance, drinking, chatting and using the semi-clean bathrooms.
- No need to get a guide for the trek, but it’s recommended
- Your guide will probably be a teenage boy that causes you a little stress as he flies up and down the mountain as if chimpanzee DNA courses through his veins. He will wait for you at the top, wherever the top is, huffily, regardless of how much you try to show your athleticism. Godspeed
- You are however, supporting local, Indigenous culture and although you may be frugal, bordering on cheap, it is worth the extra currency to spend on people that want to show you their ancient world
- The rainfall in this area, with its high altitude, is copious. Rarely is the terrain dry and thus, good shoes are necessary. You will slip going down the mountain. Step lightly.
- Hang on to guardrails, signs or anything that might secure you from falling to your death as you ascend and descend to your destination
- The likelihood of being one of only a few souls at the pools is high — if this doesn’t motivate you in this trying age of tourism, you might as well stay at the beach
- You are ensconced in a tropical forest, surrounded by lush foliage, primordial wisdom, and untainted Mother Earth
- Take a few moments to soak this in
- Also, how worthwhile was the hassle to get here? 100 percent! Amiright?!
A few days spent without WiFi, scant electricity, falling asleep to the humdrum of the rainforest, and swimming in the same pools as the lauded Mayan warriors is something inexplicable. I realized throughout my travels that if I have to keep pinching myself to reiterate how real this moment is, I must have stumbled upon one of the great and mysterious intricacies that Mother Earth sorely wants us to see. How lucky was I?
