Biotopo del Quetzal, November 17, 2006

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Arriving at the Biotopo yesterday afternoon, I was met by a friendly Senora and her four-year-old daughter. Her husband, the one I had spoken to on the phone about reservations, had left by bus for a few days of business in Guatemala City. I was the only guest in the hotel at that moment. The single room they had did not have a hot water shower, so I was given a unit that had two double beds and one single bed (and private bathroom). The concrete block building had two units in front and two in the rear, all with tiny porches. The building sat up a hill from the main hotel and restaurant, along a curving dirt path. The main hotel and restaurant sat up a hill from the main road. The Senora said I could pay when I was ready to leave. A smiling workman did chores nearby, wielding a huge machete. I explained that I hoped to see the rare Resplendent Quetzal. No one spoke English at the hotel, and I could scarcely understand the Spanish of the workman. Perhaps it wasn’t his native tongue, as he appeared to be Kekchi (spelling?).

Before I’d even had a chance to unpack, the little girl knocked at my door, repeating in an excited voice, “Hembra, hembra.” I wasn’t sure what she meant, but she obviously wanted me to follow her back down to the main area. The Senora and workman were pointing into the top of a nearby tree. There sat a female Resplendent Quetzal, its brilliant colors shining in the sun. It sat quietly for about ten minutes before it flew away.

I spent the rest of the late afternoon strolling around the grounds, which were quite lovely. There were many kinds of tropical flowers, including a six-foot-tall blooming poinsettia. The view was magnificent. Green mountains towered in all directions, some of the tops obscured by clouds. There was only one lone, winding road in the area. What a shame, I thought, that its noise and pollution disrupted this pastoral beauty. I set up my birding chair in the hotel parking lot and watched more birds I had never seen before. When it got dark and cooler, I returned to my room and finished unpacking. The shower didn’t put out much water, and it was only just warm, but I was happy with everything.

It was quite chilly when I woke up at dawn. I’d spread the two extra blankets on my bed last night and was glad I had. I got dressed in a hurry, wearing my jacket, gloves, and hat, and went in search of food and heat. The workman had two fires going under an open-sided, thatched-roof shed even farther up the hill than my building. I warmed myself until the sounds of birds called me away and made me forget how cold I was. I set up my chair in the same spot in the parking area, next to a tree stump. The Senora served me hot chocolate there, and later, breakfast. She agreed to just keep track of everything I ate and drank and put it on my hotel bill, to pay when I left. There was no menu, and I never asked how much anything was.

By late morning it had warmed up a bit. Unfortunately, the birds had quieted down and were out of sight. The little girl was “cooking” with a few discarded containers and piles of dirt, leaves, and stones. She asked me to join her for “tea,” and I did. Then we talked for a long time, and she sang me some songs. She conversed well at the tender age of four. When her mother called her from the kitchen, she immediately ran to her, even though we had been having a good time playing and talking. I was impressed at her prompt obedience. When she returned, I asked if she wanted me to read her a story from the Bible. I had brought it with me to read where it was warmer. She was delighted at my offer. Although I spoke Spanish haltingly, I could read Spanish quite well, and I was familiar with the Bible stories. She listened with rapt attention. My voice became tired after reading several chapters, so I had to stop. I think she would have listened for hours.

The Senora had told me that there was a waterfall at the top of their property and that the workman would accompany me there if I wanted to go. This seemed like a good time, so off we went. The dirt path was muddy in places, and I had to watch for protruding roots and stones. The path was also very steep. I had to keep asking the workman to stop and wait while I caught my breath. He didn’t seem out of breath at all, as he went ahead of me with his machete, occasionally hacking vines and branches out of the way. He must be younger than he looked, I reasoned. I finally asked him. He was sixty-three—my age exactly. I tried harder to keep up.

It was a long way to the waterfall. The workman asked several times if I wanted to give up and turn back. I suspected there were things he’d rather do, but he didn’t let on. He was always smiling and pleasant. I struggled on, and we finally reached the waterfall. It was about twenty or thirty feet high, and fell into a clear pool surrounded with beautiful ferns and tropical plants. Downhill we had passed a covered reservoir, which the workman had pointed out, probably from this pool, and probably the source of the hotel’s water supply. I suggested that the workman could return to the hotel and leave me alone there, but he seemed reluctant to do (to his credit). When we descended halfway, to the reservoir area, he was willing to return without me, leaving me to explore a bit.

Other guests had arrived by the time I returned from my trek. I got acquainted with three of them, a Cuban doctor and his Brazilian wife and a friend of theirs, also from Brazil. The friend spoke primarily Portuguese. The doctor spoke primarily Spanish. The wife’s native tongue was Portuguese, of course, but she had a PhD in languages, and spoke Spanish and English fluently. She interpreted for all of us.

That afternoon I walked the equivalent of several city blocks to the Biotopo del Quetzal. I paid the fee to the guard and got a map. Stairs with railings zigzagged their way up the face of the forest-covered mountain. I climbed slowly, taking frequent rests on my chair. The few birds I heard couldn’t be seen in the thick undergrowth. I’d hoped to ascend all the way up into the cloud forest, where the chipi-chipi (heavy mist of the clouds) was always present. Halfway up, however, I realized I couldn’t make it. My legs and lungs burned from the exertion. The scenery, although beautiful, was no better than that of my hotel’s grounds. I took the shortcut back to the entrance.

I had seen four waterfalls on my hike. The last emptied into a good-sized pool of concrete. A sign indicated that swimming was allowed, and there were changing rooms available. It would take a person much hardier than I to enjoy a dip. I estimated it to be about 55 degrees F. at most. Around the corner from the pool I saw tents and heard voices (the first people I’d seen other than the guards). A handsome young man and a beautiful blond girl were sitting in front of the tents. We began talking and I discovered that camping was allowed at the Biotopo (very cheap or free, I can’t remember). The two had known each other in their home country, Canada, but had traveled separately to Guatemala. Each had a huge backpack. The man was using a large file to grind away at the hardened skin on his heel, which was a sickly shade of white and had cracks of at least a half inch. I expressed my concern for his condition, but he shrugged it off. He was used to heel cracks from so much walking, he said. I had a small tube of Neutrogena hand cream in my room. I told him that if he came to the hotel I would be glad to give it to him. Then I returned to my room to rest.

The weather continued to be cooler than usual (said the Senora), and the chipi-chipi descended upon us as the evening wore on. I wore my poncho and stowed my binoculars safely underneath. The birds were hidden away in the trees, keeping warm and dry. The female (hembra) quetzal did make another brief appearance, however, delighting me and the other guests. We sat on the covered porch of the restaurant, sharing travel stories. When I heard someone call my name, I turned with surprise. The couple from Canada was walking up the driveway of the hotel. I invited them to my table and we talked for hours.

Both were about twenty years old. I was amazed that the girl would have the nerve to backpack through Guatemala alone, especially as young and pretty as she was. She had had a few problems, though, and that’s why she’d contacted the man and met up with him. I could relate to a lot of their experiences and shared my stories with them, along with advice on how to avoid some of the pitfalls that had befallen me. Now that I was in God’s hands and living my life for Him, I explained, the anxieties of life were of little importance. I had a peace and contentment that prevailed despite circumstances. Both had many questions, especially the girl. She had been raised in church but had quit going, disillusioned by what she considered hypocrisy. I explained that our faith needed to rest in God through Jesus Christ, not in any human being (who are all fallible, including ourselves). Without God’s gracious sacrifice of His Son, we would all be doomed to hell. I suggested that instead of trying to decide which of the contradictory interpretations of the Bible she had heard was correct, that she simply read it herself. It might be difficult at first, but it would get easier and easier if she kept at it. I think she was convinced. I hope she later convinced the young man. I offered to buy their dinner and they gratefully accepted. I gave the man my Neutrogena as they left.

Back in my room to shower, I found the water less warm than the night before, and a lesser quantity was available now that other guests were in the same building. I showered very quickly and put my clothes on over my pajamas, including an extra shirt and socks. I took the blankets off the two other beds and warmed my feet with my hair dryer before I hopped into bed, pulling the covers close around my body. The rain began coming down in earnest and was deafening on the tin roof, but I soon fell asleep anyway.