Metropolis

Photos by Bryan Fox

Hammocks with mosquito nets become cold, damp cocoons undercover of night. But no matter. There are more interesting things to do than sleep out here.

“Bryan, Bryan, ven qui,” whispers Augustin, our affable, diminutive Kiche Mayan guide. I can sense his smile in the dark—his wide, dark eyes shining even before the beam from my headlamp pans up to his face. It is 4am, as good a time as any to get up. Augustin doesn’t get excited easily, so I rub the tired out of my eyes and stumble over to where he is standing with a flashlight alongside our backpacks piled on the ground. “Mira!” he says, pointing with his light.

There is a tarantula sitting on my bag. It’s the size of an open-fingered hand, and (depending on whose hand) slightly more hairy. Its eyes glisten innocently in the liquid blue light shining down upon it. Slowly, I raise my camera, then lower it again. The spider is sort of cute, but in a terrifying, “Don’t come near me” sort of way.

Over one quarter million people each year visit Tikal in Northern Guatemala. After the site at Chichen Itza in Mexico, Tikal is home to the most famous Mayan ruins in the world. The majority of visitors arrive by bus from the town of Flores after dark, watch the sun come up if they are lucky, then stroll around for two hours on a tour, before their ride brings them back to civilization. They’re gone so fast they don’t even realize they were there.

But that isn’t the only way to see Tikal—and hardly the most exciting. For around US$150, you can go the hard way: three days (55km) of jungle trekking through one of the largest tracts of rainforest left in Central America, with a few worthy stops along the way. You don’t get five-star dining, a bed or a place to wash.

The mosquitoes are real. The tarantulas and scorpions are real. The chance of running into a barba amarilla (yellow beard snake), with a taste for human ankles and a bite that is usually deadly, is a little too real.

The tour leaves the sleepy village of El Cruce de dos Aguadas, deep in the lush zone of El Peten. The beauty of the trip is the inaccessibility of it all—the trek to Tikal is so under-booked that it doesn’t exist unless there’s sufficient demand. My multinational group of nine hikers is the first to pass through in five days, as evidenced by the dates in the registry book at the first night’s campground. The small volume, a 100-page school composition book, has entries dating from 2004—and it’s not yet half-full. If you go alone in the winter (weather-wise, the most sensible time to do the trek), you may have to wait a day or two to find a group, unless you want to go it alone, which raises the cost considerably.

Besides the tarantulas (whose bite won’t kill you, but may cause a bit of flesh to fall off), the scorpions (whose bite just stings for a few hours), and the barba amarilla (picture the snake in Apocalypto that bit one of the warriors and prompted his companions to advise him, “Open your veins; it will make the dying quicker”), the walk isn’t that dangerous. Guatemala ended a decades-long civil war in 1996 and since then police protection of tourists has been increasing steadily. As one local put it to me, “The government can’t afford to have you get hurt here.” The mindset seems to be, better to pay potential banditos a few quetzals to tote their guns for the law instead of in violation of it.

There are mosquitoes out here in abun-dance, but in winter their presence is more of an annoyance than a risk. Still, taking malaria pills can’t hurt. Though locals say peak malaria season only runs from May to October, you’re a long way from anywhere that can help you if you need it. Bring DEET, and get used to the random pinches that will pepper any exposed skin from dusk till dawn.

It’s hard to argue, though, that a little dis-comfort isn’t worth the things you get to see and hear… Waking up to the guttural chorus of howler monkeys singing their morning songs. Toucans, falcons and spider monkeys vying for space in the trees above. The mystical ruins of El Zotz, a Mayan site along the route, unexcavated yet still open for exploration.

An evening trip to the entrance of a bat cave, where it is hard not to be mesmerized by the chiropteran wall of sound as thousands of the creatures come out to play.

And, of course, the grand prize at the end of it all—when smiling, sweaty and sore, you have the chance to be taken in by the wonders of Tikal on a warm afternoon after all the day-trippers have gone home. Sitting 40 meters in the air atop a Mayan temple, watching the sun burn down over a dense green canopy, you can hear the forest come alive, and smile. Sometimes it’s hard to privilege journey over destination. But when both are breathtaking, you win either way.

There are no shortage of travel companies on the tiny island of Flores, the starting point for all treks into the rainforest. Just show up and you should be able to join onto a tour within a day or two. If you’re pressed for time or prefer to plan in advance, try the Onca Travel Agency (www.mostlymaya.com/onca.html) or Martsam Tour and Travel (www.martsam.com). An English-speaking guide will double the cost of the trip, so those on a budget might prefer to rely on a bilingual co-explorer. Hotels on tiny Flores are all centrally located. Try Hotel Mirador del Lago (+502 7926-3276), with lakeside singles for US$12-15, or Hospedaje Doña Goya II (+502 7926-3538), with good-sized rooms for about the same rate. The easiest and fastest way to fly to Flores is through Guatemala City. TACA www.taca.com offers daily flights for US$115 each way. There are buses as well, but they are hardly practical. For more information, see the Flores page on WikiTravel, which is remarkably comprehensive.

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