El Remate and Biotopo Cerro Cahui, November 9, 2006

I didn’t sleep well last night. The barking of a large dog woke me up. It was still pretty early when I went to bed, so I decided to just lie there awake until it stopped. The air conditioner had shut off despite my programming it to run continuously, and it was hot! I turned it on again, waited till the dog stopped barking, and then fell asleep again. About midnight the dog woke me again, barking right outside my window. I peeked out and saw the huge watchdog they kept at La Casa de Don David. He finally quit barking, and I turned on the air conditioner (which had again stopped) and got back to sleep. The dog’s barking awakened me a third time. I got dressed and walked to the office, which was closed. I saw a man moving around downstairs and called to him. I explained the problem and he said the dog was probably barking at a stray cat. He could see my frustration and said he would go get the dog, which he did. I turned on the air conditioner, which was again off, and wished I at least had a ceiling fan. They were supposed to come with all the rooms, according to the website. Ah, well, at least I’d had no ill effects from the chloroquine I’d taken after dinner.

After a few more hours it was time to get up. I got my birding gear together, slathered myself with suntan lotion and insect repellant (a daily ritual now), had a snack, read my Bible, and packed another snack and a small bottle of water. I stowed everything in the backpack attached to my birding chair and headed out front to get a bicycle. The bicycles hadn’t been brought out for the day, so I had to wait while someone went to get one. The one they offered me was in pretty bad shape. It seems the one I’d ridden yesterday belonged to a hotel employee, and he wasn’t there this day. A lot of the workers rode bicycles, most of them pretty nice. I asked if there was a better one available and they took me below, where they kept them, to take my choice of several more. What an awful selection. I finally chose the one that was least offensive. At least it had a rack over the back tire so I could secure my chair/backpack combo to it with a bungee cord and not have to carry it on my back while I rode. They lowered the seat (pounded it down with a hammer) before I could ride it. Then they had to go get air in the tires.

Despite the delay I managed to get to Biotopo Cerro Cahui a bit before it opened, birding along the way. A guard showed up soon and unlocked the gate. He told me to pay the small entrance fee when I came back down from my walk. There were no maps, despite what sources had said, other than the one printed on a large board at the entrance. I questioned the guard long and hard about directions, not wanting to get lost, and about the length of time it would take. He assured me that one could walk the entire path easily in three hours, even taking it slowly. That would allow me time to eat in one of the restaurants I had passed on the way, or wade in the lake off one of the piers (all public).

Not far into the forest I heard large wings flapping overhead and saw a huge black bird with yellow and blue on its face. My guidebook told me it was a Montezuma Oropendola. What a great start! I continued my gradual uphill climb. I didn’t see a lot of birds, but every one I did see was one I’d never seen before in my life. I took a photo of a termite nest in a tree that was two feet in diameter.  Later I saw one four times that size.  The jungle was close around me—green everywhere. The path was wide enough so that I didn’t worry about snakes being coiled in the trees on each side, but it was also zigzagged with tree roots. I watched my step so that I wouldn’t fall and so that one of the tree roots didn’t turn out to be a snake. Other than occasional bird sounds and rustlings, all was still. After the stress of the last days, the peacefulness soothed my soul. I was alone with God and His creation.

The path soon became steeper, and there were lots of wooden stairs. I had to stop as often as every ten or twenty yards just to catch my breath. I was glad I had the chair. The entrance map had shown three overlooks along the way, branching off from the main path. After the first overlook one could take a shorter loop back to the entrance. It wasn’t long before I saw a sign that pointed toward the first overlook. That was hopeful. But after a lot more climbing, and several more signs pointing toward the overlook, I began to wonder if I’d ever get there. It was very hot and humid, I was drenched with sweat, and I’d drunk half my water already. I knew no one was ahead of me on the path since I was the first one in the gate, and no one had passed me from below. Finally, I heard voices. A couple from France passed me on their way to the overlook. We spoke a few words in our broken, common tongue (Spanish) and they trudged on ahead, being younger and in better shape than I. Much later, when I was ready to turn back, I heard them coming back down. They said it wasn’t much farther and that I shouldn’t give up when I was so close.

By now the path was narrower, almost vertical, and had tree roots for stairs. I refused to give up, though, and inched my way along. At long last I reached the overlook, a breathtaking view of the east end of Lake Peten Itza from far above. After I’d eaten my snack, had a few sips of my diminishing water supply, and taken in the view for a while, I started back down. There were several confusing signs pointing out various options, but I planned to retrace my steps. Descending the steep path was almost as hard as climbing it. My toes were crammed into the front of my hiking shoes, and I felt blisters forming. I held onto tree branches to keep from slipping, and my neck ached from looking down all the time. I finished my water before I got back to the entrance.

When I finally saw the path widen and knew I was close to the entrance, all I could think about was water. But there was none. I asked the guard, a different young man from the one who let me in, if there was a store nearby. None close, I was told. In desperation, I asked if he could ride his bike to the nearest one and buy me some water. I would pay him. He hesitated only a minute, and then agreed and was off. I soon had a two-liter bottle of water and downed much of it on the spot. I tried to give him a generous tip, but he would only accept the money to pay for the water.

The first guard reappeared then and wanted to know how I liked my walk. A little irritated, I asked him why he had so greatly underestimated the time it took to see the Biotopo. It had been six hours since I began the hike, and I’d only gone a third of the distance he had said I could cover easily in three hours. I suggested that he adjust his advice for older hikers. He just grinned and said I wasn’t old. I assured him that I was—sixty-three, in fact. He just grinned again and said I didn’t look it. I wasn’t flattered.

When I had recovered sufficiently, I biked back to the hotel. I was too tired to enjoy the thought of wading alone in foreign water, and I saw no restaurants open on the way back. I parked the bike at the rack out front, hoisted my gear, and walked to my room. I lay on the bed for a while, thinking about a refreshing shower. But I would just have to slather on more insect repellent and suntan lotion, so why bother. I tried out the hammock hanging on the small porch outside my room, but it was just too hot to stay there. Instead, I went to the office and asked to use the Internet. I felt better after I’d emailed my family. Then I bought some postcards to send to friends and family. Each one cost one dollar in postage stamps, but I was assured the mail system was efficient and would deliver the postcards in a timely manner (unlike Mexico when I’d been there years ago). I bought a fruit smoothie and watched the hummingbirds a while.

I’d hoped to meet Don David by now. I finally asked the girl at the desk where he was. She told me that he and his family had gone to Florida and would be there a couple of months. I was disappointed. No mention of his trip had been made in the many emails I’d received. She said the family went there every year. She told me all this in Spanish, although I knew she could speak English fairly well. No other hotel employees would even try to speak English, despite the website’s assurance that employees spoke “perfect broken English.”

For dinner that night, I again had the special as my free daily meal. Last night it had been chiles rellenos with green beans and herbed rice (and the one slice of white bread). Tonight it was pollo a la reina, a Guatemalan chicken and rice dish. The meals were delicious, tasting like nothing I’d ever eaten. I was joined for dinner by two travelers I’d met briefly the day before. They were Canadians and were leaving in the morning for Tikal on the 5:30am shuttle. I decided I might as well go for a day trip to Tikal while I was still staying in El Remate. That way I could check with the Tikal hotel in person to assure they were still holding my upcoming reservation. I could return on the shuttle at 2pm or 6pm. The round-trip fare was about five dollars, payable in advance to secure my reservation. I asked the restaurant to prepare a lunch for tomorrow, which I would find marked with my name in a small trunk in the lobby. I also asked for a 5am wake-up knock on my front door, as the Canadians had suggested I do. They said the minivan left promptly at 5:30, whether or not those who had signed up for the ride were on board.

The office had sent someone that afternoon to reprogram my air conditioner so it wouldn’t keep shutting off every few hours. After a reminder to the girl at the front desk to please keep the dog from barking at my window again, I returned to my room, showered, and went to bed.