Time for our next hefty shuttle bus. Every blog I read assures that Semuc Champey is the best thing to do in Guatemala. Descriptions are of a limestone bridge with pools to bathe in. Doesn’t sound like much, but how can we miss the thing to do in Guatemala!? Unfortunately, to get there you have to do a hefty dog-leg off-route to our next stop Flores, making what would be a straight 12 hour journey from Antigua to Flores, an 18 hour one broken up into two parts. It’s definitely not something we’ll be doing if we came back out here on a holiday, so if not now, then when? It better be worth it!
We’re luckily first on the shuttle bus out of Panajachel and pick the prime seats for the (apparently) 8-hour journey ahead. Many a podcast is listened to as we shuffle and adjust ourselves in our chairs over the next 10 hours to alleviate soreness from sitting in minibus seats akin in comfort to a Ryan Air flight. Although these pick-ups will certainly be giving Michael O’Leary a run for his money:
Thankfully, the shuttles do stop for breaks, and I’m still pleasantly surprised by how good the facilities have been along the way. We treat ourselves to some empanadas (the bread kind, not the corn kind!), and a muffin on the way. Nutritious.
As we unfold ourselves and clamber out the shuttle in Lanquin, the nearest town to Semuc, locals clamber at the emerging gringos and ask what hostel we’re going to. This feels like the usual taxi scam, but actually we’re pleasantly surprised to find out our hostel provides a free transfer. Thankfully somewhat less busy that the ones we saw en route!
Our next accommodation is in the mountains, earning its “vista verde” name. We get settled and explore the beautiful grounds and admire the wonderful rolling green hills around us.
James is unfortunately feeling rather worse for wear. We suspect we’ve both been fighting Covid, as after the volcano I felt like I was still at altitude and was struggling with catching my breath in a way I haven’t before. What lingered for me was a rather pesky headache, but James seems to have been hit hard as he follows the worse-before-better route. We’re actually surprised we haven’t been ill more on this trip considering the amount of new people we’re around and not eating as healthily as we would like. James also points out that at least with a cold/Covid he can take some painkillers and power through, compared to getting hit with a stomach bug that means not going anywhere until fully recovered. So, we count our chickens, and have a meal of chicken at the hostel saving our energy for tomorrow.
The next day we decide to go it alone to Semuc to save some pennies. It should be easy enough, according to the blogs, you just get in a pick-up. We’re skilled at this now after Lake Atitlan, no problem! We head to the corner where the pick-ups start and are immediately accosted by a tuk-tuk driver and his ‘friend’. Responding to a barrage of comments in Spanish, “Yes, we are going to Semuc”, “no, your tuk-tuk price is too much”, “yes, we know we’re gringos and we have to pay more”, “yes, we know the pick-up will stop all along the way”… and so on and so on as I frantically try and look up how much the pick-up will cost us when it arrives. A quick Google suggests they might only be over-charging us by £1, and considering James isn’t feeling great and they are right there, we give in. I don’t know if it’s an intentional tactic, but I find it really hard to think straight when being talked at. Funnily enough, despite their best efforts to give the impression they are scamming us, I find out later they actually charged us the going rate!
Despite the promise to take us “straight there” there’s a detour to the petrol station out of town and back while trying to lure more gringos into our tiny vehicle along the way. Cheeky! The tuk-tuk struggles up the steepest of inclines, and bombs down the other sides as we wind our way up into the forest.
We get to Semuc and again are accosted by a lady asking if we want food. It’s been a while since we’ve felt like money bags to locals, and it’s not one we’ve missed. We’re glad to make it through the entrance to peace and quiet.
Considering James’ illness, I was fully expecting to leave him in a shady pool to do nothing whilst I went to explore, which just shows how much I still don’t know about him! There’s a mirador (viewpoint) walk, straight up, 500m, it takes 30 minutes, it’s meant to be incredibly hard, even in full health. “Let’s do it!” he says.
The route is stairs straight up, a viewpoint, and then straight back down. It’s not easy by any means, but it really was nothing as bad as it was made out to be, thankfully. In fact we make it to the viewpoint and assume there must be more because we do it too quickly. As we descend we realise we smashed it without even meaning to.
Now there’s nothing to do but paddle and bathe and wallow about like hippos in the stunning limestone pools of Semuc Champey. The main river cuts under the limestone creating a waterfall as the earth swallows the river right up. The limestone remains atop creating a “bridge”, that has formed stunning pools where water playfully flows down and through like a majestic water feature. This whole spectacle is made even more so by the vibrant colours of the water.
The water is not warm, but it’s also not so cold that you can’t enjoy having a splash about. Gringos and Guatemalans play and loll about.
James and I manage to recreate our cliff jump as I push myself once again to get more comfortable jumping into water. This time he doesn’t let go 😉.
It’s a lovely relaxing day, and definitely one we’re glad to have fitted into the trip.
On our way out, we are again accosted as a local man Eduardo asks if we’re looking for transport out of the area. I figure it doesn’t hurt to ask how much cheaper we can get to Flores. He confirms he can do it for £5 cheaper, he doesn’t have a phone number I can reach him on so we can think it over, he reassures we’ll be in the same bus as the rest of the gringos, it’s just a competing company. What the hell, we agree. When has a tourist story that started with “I agreed with a random man on the street” ever gone wrong? We hand over nothing but a handshake and a promise that he’ll pick us up at 7:30 the next day.
We stop off at a cafe on the way and enjoy a really tasty frappe and James tries and loves a coffee, kahlua, cacao and cinnamon concoction, before heading back to the hostel for a swim.
At the pool we meet our younger counterparts. They are a couple travelling for a year, one from Manchester, the other from the South in Brighton. The Mancunian has moved down to Brighton, and whilst she’s allowed to jest about the weather there, the Brighton lad is not. They’re travelling the Americas too, but are doing it in the opposite direction to us. It’s nice to meet some others and have a chat, but soon enough it’s dark and dinner is calling.
We head back to the cafe for our meals before we get another early night for the next long shuttle tomorrow.
My night is plagued by worries that our man Eduardo won’t be there in the morning and we’ll be stuck in Lanquin another night (the bus only runs at 8am). I needn’t have worried, he’s there early. As we jump in the tuk-tuk with his mate, and hand over the money for the journey, I realise they could easily drive us anywhere and rob us, not helped by him elaborating a few minutes into the journey… “there’s been a change of plan…”. He explains that in order to get the cheap price he offered us, we have to pick up the bus down from the pick-up point, so the agency doesn’t notice. But not to worry, we definitely have two seats. We drive passed all the other gringos dutifully and safely waiting at the agency pick-up point as we look on longingly. Shit.
We pull in at a hotel down the road. The tuk-tuk driver goes on his way and it’s just us and Eduardo. Except Eduardo needs to stand on the other side of the road to flag down the transport, we must wait with all of our stuff hidden away. It’s a long thirty minutes as Eduardo casually says hello to every person who passes, and sits himself down at various points along the road. At one point I instigate a chat with him in a hope to endear him to us and not con us. He’s friendly enough and says how the road here was only finished a year and a half ago. A bit like with Toro Toro in Bolivia, we can only imagine how much more popular this place now is with this new ease of access. He then returns back to the other side of the road as the shuttle buses full of gringos start to pass by. It’s now definitely after 8am. Double shit.
One thing I haven’t mentioned about Eduardo is he has a rather impeding limp… But does he…? Maybe he’s actually Keiser Soze, and he’s just waiting to run and jump into a passing tuk-tuk leaving us for dust with our money… Maybe. Of course, my mind is never more imaginative than when I’m imagining all the things that can go wrong, and after a fraught 40 minutes of James and I agreeing no saving is worth this worry, our transport finally arrives. We are quickly hustled into the bus, I shake Eduardo’s hand in desperate relief and gratitude, and take the prime seat at the front of the bus.
We’re off! Just another 8 hour journey until our next stop, Flores.
************
Adventure – Seeing a huge gushing river disappear underneath the earth and coming out the other side some 400m further down.
Excitement – Dodging the nibbling fish in the pools of Semuc. Delicious coffee/chocolate concoction. “Chip shop” style chips from a street vendor, delicious. Jumping into the turquoise pools together.
Trauma – Wolf-whistles from a group of workmen holding machetes whilst James is literally walking next to me, he prepares to go full John Wick on them but mercifully spares them this time. Constant fear of being over-charged or robbed entirely. People behaving like they were scamming us, when they actually weren’t!
1 Comment
Riding in the tuk tuks is getting you prepared for Asia. Limestone country is fascinating with rivers diving down sink holes into the earth. Those pools looked very inviting apart from the piranha fish. Another great blog.