The following is a true story only the names have been changed to protect
the guilty. This took place about one month ago.
After spending two days in Coban, Guatemala I determined that I didn't want
to go to language school there. I departed Coban for Flores with a planned
two hour stop at a place called Semuc-Champey (15deg 32�N 89deg 55�W). The
guide book raved about this place so I decided to make a small detour from
my route to see it. I detoured onto a road that was sufficiently rough
enough to finish shaking the front passenger side fender off. I wired the
fender on the bed and kept going. I came to a bridge spanning the Rio
Cahabon. The Rio Cahabon formed this quirk of hydrology called
Semuc-Champey. I had to stop on the bridge and look at the impossible color
of the water. The river was a strip of absolute torquise blue framed by the
omnipresent green of the Guatemalan Highlands. The contrast of green and
torquise seemed unnatural. I expect natural things to have a blending
between them but here there was a rarely seen contrast between the water and
the land. This scene alone would have been worth the detour, but when
compared with the star attraction this scene didn�t even warrant mention. I
followed the trail into the parking lot, paid my admission fee and watched
the two helicopters that were there lift off with some of the important
people of the world. I walked the trail along the torquise blue river to
the star attraction. Here at the star attraction the water gently flowed
over a series of wide natural limestone stair steps and at each step pools
had formed. In the pools the color of the water varied (by depth) from the
soft blue of a warm tropical lagoon to the deep milky blue of a galcier.
Once I became accustomed to this magnificant scene a question occured to me.
Where was all the water? The river carried a tremendous amount of water
and only a trickle of that amount was coming over these limestone steps.
The answer lay further up. Assending the last of the limestone ledges I
could see but barely comprehend the answer. The whole of the river plunged
into a roaring malestorm of whitewater immediately before dissappearing into
a black shaft passing directly beneath the limestone ledges holding the
pools and water falls. I had to look at the whole scene for awhile to make
sure I understood. The ledges I had just assended where people were
swimming in the pools was actually a land bridge over a brutal torrent of
water. The contrast of the tranquil blue pools and the roaring whitewater
malestorm a couple feet below was as unexpected as the contrast of the
torquise blue water framed by deepest green of the river below. Here in the
same place where the water was tranquil enough for a baby to swim in a few
feet underneath was a torrent of water that would mean absolute death for
anyone unfortunate enough to enter it. This place was both beautiful and
bizarre.
I swam around for awhile enjoying the plesantly cool waters and beautiful
scenery. Having exceeded my two hour layover I decided to leave. As I was
walking away a man stopped me. Pointing to one of the ledges he asked me if
I thought the water was deep enough to jump off the ledge above it. I
looked at the ledge and into the pool. I told him that I thought he would
survive the impact. "Well why don�t you jump off that ledge while I take a
picture?" he said. Of course the way he said it it sounded more like one
half dare and one half challenge. Not willing to let some Englishman out
dare me I walked out on the ledge and said "You ready with the camera?".
"Yeah!" was his reply. I took a two step run and jump to clear the rocks
below. I didn�t hit the bottom all that hard when I landed. A few minuets
later Mordon and I were jumping off the ledge while his girlfriend Sarah
snapped photos. Shortly I abandoned all thoughts of making it to Flores
that day and offered to take Sarah and Mordon back to town whenever we we�re
all good and ready. I spent the next few hours swimming in the pools and
keeping an eye on the beautiful surroundings which included this cutie in a
black bikini. It was about this time when I noticed the cutie in the black
bikini talking with Sarah. That was all the excuse I needed to make my
introduction. I swam over to Sarah and engaged on some small talk before
introducing myself to a person who for the purposes of this story I shall
refer to as "Kim".
"Kim" was a petite brunette cutie with soft torquise blue eyes the color of
which seemed to have been hand picked to match the color of the warm
inviting pools of Semuc-Champey. Those soft blue eyes would prove more
disruptive to my schedule and plans than the refreshing blue pools of
Semuc-Champey. "Kim" said she was from Oregon which seemed strange once I
found out she was really from Pennsylvania. I soon realized that we shared
some common inclinations. She had quit her job three years ago and had been
traveling through Asia for a couple years. She returned home to
Pennsylvania got a job saking groceries until she had enough money to travel
to Central Amereica. That day we sat together in the inviting torquise
pools of Semuc-Champey with me enjoying the first weeks of my journey and
"Kim" enjoying the last weeks of hers. As travelers do we discussed where
we had been and where we were going next. This led me to state that I was
traveling to Flores to attend a Spanish school. Upon hearing this Kim
rather directly invited herself to ride with me to Flores. Having stated
that she was riding with me to Flores and not asking I wasn�t offered the
opportunity to say "No". With her smile, beautiful eyes, and other
desirable appointments "No" was a word that would�t cross my lips even if
there had been a good reason. I�m such a sap.
We ate dinner with Mordon and Sarah that night. I picked "Kim" up at 7 the
next morning and we turned two for Flores. We decended out of the relative
cool of the Guatemalan Highlands and into the low hot flatlands of the
Peten. At "Kim�s" insistance we took the dirt road (and more adventerous
route) to Sayaxche�nearly loosing the Ghost and all occupants in a couple of
unseen truck swallowing potholes. At Sayaxche�we put the Ghost on a ferry
to cross the Rio de la Pasion. Unfortunatley (at the time) I didn�t realize
the opportunity I was letting slip. We reached the far shore of the Rio de
la Pasion without incident and continued on to Flores. Flores (16deg 26�N
89deg 54�W) was a plesant enough town despite being 100% tourist. It was
built on a conqured Myan city. The Myan�s had built their city on a island
in Lago Itza Peten. A causeway now connected the island to the shore. This
enabled "Kim" and I to drive to a lakeside resturaunt in Flores and enjoy
the lakeside breeze and a late lunch. Lago Itza Peten was a wonderful clear
lake and "Kim" and I spent much of the next five days being lazy on the
lakeshore when we weren�t visiting the Myan ruins at Tikal, getting lost at
night on some overgrown jungle road and finding ourselves almost in Mexico,
or of course engaged in some sort of skullduggery.
Ah! the skullduggery. It happened one morning that "Kim" and I formulated
a plan during our hours of drinking cowboy coffee at our lakeside campsite.
"Kim" and I decided to break the tropical maliase with a jungle hike. The
trail we decided to take had been cut out by one of the most expensive
hotels in the Peten for the use of its guests. For the purposes of this
story I�ll refer to this hotel as the "Ritz". A couple hours on the trail
and a couple of gallons of sweat on my clothes later we made it back to the
road. Walking the road back to our campsite we passed the main gate of the
Ritz compound. "Kim" suggested we give ourselves a tour of the facilities.
What was I going to do say.."No"? So we toured the pool, the poolside bar,
the fitness center. We even played a couple games of foozeball (she won).
Then we made our way down to the beach area. There we planted ourselves on
some deck chairs in the cabana and continued our past time of being lazy on
the lakeshore. Not satisfied with the cooling lake breeze I decided to have
a swim. I walked to the end of the dock and was just about to drop my pants
for a quick skinny dip when I spied the hotel caretaker serriptisously
sitting among the bushes on the lakeshore. So instead of a skinny dip I
just had a dip wearing my second hand desert camo pants. This, of course,
left no doubt in the caretakers mind that we were not guests. After all
anyone who will pay $132 per night for a hotel room in a country where $5
per night will get you a room anywhere surely is refined enough not to swim
in pants. Sure enough I had scarcely gotten wet before the caretaker began
walking towards "Kim" still sitting in the cabana. I swam back to the dock
and did a squishy dripping march back to the cabana. The caretaker politely
asked us to leave. Seeing as how the caretaker did not escort us out "Kim"
decided we should take the longway out. We looked at the hotels yacht,
library, and continued through the rest of the hotel grounds. "Kim" said
she wanted to see what you got for $132 per night in Guatemala. I said
"Well if this hotel is like all the other hotels in Guatemala it won�t have
automatically locking doors. I say we try some doors." The assumption was
correct and directly we found an open door. Covertly entring the room we
gave ourselves the self-guided tour. Looking around the room a
skulldugerous plan sprouted in "Kim�s" mind. She said "You know we should
spend the night here." and she didn�t mean to check in. Seeing in her a
kindered spirit for skullduggery I immediately agreed. What was I going to
do say "No"? At that moment our focus shifted from a casual touring of the
Ritz to casing the joint for impending skullduggery. After leaving the door
unlocked we finished casing the hotel compound and exited through the lobby
and main gate to the road. Walking up the road toward the Ghost we evaluated
the fence surrounding the hotel for an appropriate infiltration point.
Having found one without even breaking stride we returned to our camp and
waited for darkness.
With darkness decending we reviewed our plans. I even drew a map detailing
infiltration and escape routes complete with hotel security guards shown as
stick figures with guns of course your two heroes were represented also. I
was the stick figure with no gun and "Kim" was the one with "melons". Hey,
you can never have too much detail when planning these things. With the main
plan and all "what if" scenario plans entrenched in our minds and darkness
being at the proper level we initiated the skullduggery proper. We moved up
the ditch to the infiltration point. We ducked under the fence and came to
a dirt embankment. I handed my bag to "Kim" and scampered up the bank. She
threw the bags up to me and scampered up behind me. We crouched in the
darkness for amoment to see if our presence had been detected. All seemed
clear. We made a few more stealthy movements towards a lit hotel pathway.
Once there we calmly stood up and walked down the path looking like any
other traveling couple. The hard part was over nothing could go wrong now.
We walked to the room with the unlocked door. When I tried the knob it
wouldn�t turn. OK no need to worry we had unlocked the sliding door at the
back of the room during our afternoon tour. Alas it too had been locked.
It looked as if our skullduggery had been foiled. However, being the author
of many skullduggerous plans that have seen both success and failure I knew
that its always best to have insurance. We simply walked to the other room
we had left unlocked. There our skullduggerous plan found purchase. We
entered the room and turned the air conditioning to ultra freeze. Soon we
were enjoying powerfull showers, big fluffy towels, clean sheets on soft
mattresses, ice cold beer (we brought it with us), cable TV, and candle
light. Don�t forget we also enjoyed that effervesent feeling you get when
engaging in skullduggery. So picture this I�m running around some 3rd world
country in my custom built truck breaking into places with a beautiful
accomplis and living the life of a high roller. If I was better looking I
could be Bond...James Bond. Another key difference between me and Bond is
that Bond always gets the girl. Well I�m no 007. Oh yes I tried but my
overtures were repelled with a "no" and a cold stare. Those same soft
torquise eyes that days before made me think of the soothing waters of
Semuc-Champey now brought to mind the icy cold torquise of a glacier. With
that stare "Kim" put a chill in the air stronger than any produced by the
air conditioning. I retreated to my side of the cold room. It then occured
to me that days before I had missed an opportunity. Days before in
Sayxche�we had crossed the River of Passion. We had put the Ghost on the
ferry and crossed. I realized too late that should you ever cross the River
of Passion with a beautiful girl don�t forget to take the time to test the
waters. Opportunity is fikle and now it was passed. We watched TV until
exhastion overpowered the adrenalin of skullduggery. In the morning we
packed our bags and walked out through the lobby and main gate stopping to
talk with the doorman on the way out. Halfway back to the truck, feeling we
had gotten away with it I stopped to give "Kim" a congradulatory high five.
That day "Kim" was leaving for Rio Dulce so when we got back to the Ghost
we headed to Flores where she would catch the bus. As we drove around the
lake to Flores I began to feel a little melancholy about her leaving. We
had time for a quick lunch before her bus left. The problem with this plan
was that there is no such thing as a quick lunch in Guatemala. There wasn�t
much time left when our food arrived so we shoveld it in with much haste and
little conversation. "Kim" finished first and went to get her bag from the
truck. I paid and stood there waiting for change while eating the last of
my two hamburgers. Of course getting change in Guatemala usually requires a
trip to another shop to get smaller bills. This time was no different and
the waiter dissappeared out the door with my money. "Kim" came into the
resturaunt as I shoved the last bit of hamburger into my mouth. With the
bus waiting on her she gave me the keys to the Ghost and I gave her a greasy
hamburger kiss goodbye. She dissappeared into the dirty street for the last
time and I stood there waiting for my change.
My change finally arrived and I walked down the dirty road to my truck.
(WARNING: This story should end right here but in response to my cousin
Pam's request for more "emotional" content I�m throwing in this last
paragraph. Its a paragraph that no one wants to read in an adventure or
skullduggery story but I�m doing it just for you Pam. As for the rest of
you I strongly advise you to stop reading here. If you don�t don�t complain
to me you have been warned!) As I was saying. My change finally arrived and
I walked down the dirty road to my truck. As I walked back to the Ghost
that melancholy feeling of lonleyness saw me and jumped on my back. There
it rode like an unbalanced load talking into my ear and doing a fine job of
making me feel miserable. I felt like just driving away and leaving Flores
and thoughts of "Kim" behind, but I was due to start Spanish school the next
day so I couldn�t run away. I tried to think of some place to go and wait
out the day, but everywhere reminded me of "Kim". You know, oh we camped
there, went swimming there, ate there, went snorkeling there, a moonlight
swim there.... I finally decided to return to San Carlos on the other side
of the lake. "Kim" and I had stopped there before. The last time I was
there a bubbly evangelical Christian gal from Flordia had cheerfully made
her introduction to us. I told her I was here for a language school. "Kim"
told her that she had concieved a child by a local man and had returned to
marry the father. After hearing that our bubbly evangelical girl lost her
fizz and left. That was days ago. Now I sat on the same bench looking at
the same water, but not feeling the same. I was lonely and mad. I was mad
at myself. How in the space of five days could I become so accustomed to
having "Kim" around that I should feel this lonely after she left? I spend
a lot of time alone. I thought it would take more than five days to get me
out of the habit of doing everything solo. Unfortunately it hadnt. Sitting
there on the bench feeling hurt and mad I made a resolution. Never again
would I let this happen. From the far reaches of my soul I secured a
unanimous resolution that I would never allow someone to make me feel this
lonely again and I ratified it with an oath that I yelled out to the lake.
So it shall be for now and forever. But I know me. I know that in another
time, in another place, another pretty face will make me abandon my
resolution just as Ive done a hundred times before and oh how I hope to
break it soon!
