It don’t gotta be fun to be fun.
-Carl Tobin
Whether it be a border crossing into another country, or an hour’s drive along an unfinished road, it seemed like reaching all of the Mayan sites on our Belize itinerary required a bit of adventure. By our fifth day in the jungles of the Cayo district, we knew to expect fun twists on every excursion, so it wasn’t too surprising when our GPS led us to a bridgeless crossing of the Mopan River. We were on our way to our third and final Mayan site of the trip, Xunantunich, and the route included a ride on a hand cranked ferry.
The ferry attendants instructed all of us except for Vince to step out of the Jeep and then guided him on to the ferry with Bonnie, David, and I walking behind. Once aboard, we asked if we could power the crank ourselves, which seemed to amuse the attendants who graciously allowed us to all take turns.
Within a few minutes, the ferry came to rest on the far side of the river, and we all piled back into the Jeep. From there, it was a couple minute’s drive uphill to the entrance station of Xunantunich. It had been a decisively shorter trip than the routes to Tikal and Caracol, but fun nonetheless. We paid for admission just as the park was opening, and started off along a paved trail that would lead us to the ruins.
It was a cloudy morning, the first one we’d had in several days, and I worried that we might get caught in a downpour. Thankfully, I had an umbrella with me just in case, and in the meantime I was eager to start exploring. As we walked, I kept my eyes trained on the tall trees that lined the path, looking for any signs of movement. Within moments, I spotted the bright red cap of a Yucatan Woodpecker, which stood out brilliantly against a gray tree trunk.
I was definitely getting used to the ample wildlife watching opportunities that came with spending all of our time in the rainforest. There’s nothing like waking up to the sounds of tropical birds in the morning and seeing beautiful creatures the moment you leave your hotel room. I watched the woodpecker digging for food in the tree trunk while the others visited a small museum nearby. When they reemerged, we continued down the path together until we stepped out into a grassy clearing.
On the other side of the long field loomed El Castillo, the second tallest manmade structure in Belize, and the commanding focal point of Xunantunich. I let out a melodramatic groan when I realized how tall it was. Even a cloudy morning in Belize is hot-I could already feel sweat gathering on my forehead-and I dreaded the slog it would be to reach the top of El Castillo. Of course, that wouldn’t stop me from climbing it, not now that I knew how beautiful the view would be from up there.
We decided to save El Castillo for last, and instead started by climbing some of the smaller structures, looking at beautifully preserved carvings, and finding ripe avocados and other fruits scattered around the ground from fruiting trees.
After meandering around the site, we eventually stood at the base of El Castillo, squinting upwards at a set of stone steps carved into the hillside. The sun was starting to emerge from behind the cloud cover, and my umbrella, which had seemed like a good idea before, now seemed like an annoyance. I hooked its handle onto a strap of my backpack and started climbing, the umbrella whacking my right calf with every step. Thankfully my quadriceps were getting used to all of the pyramid climbing now that it was our third day of giant Mayan staircases, and the climb, while hot, was much easier than the trek to the top of Caracol’s Sky Palace.
As we climbed, we stopped periodically to peer into different rooms and admire the view as we gained elevation. Spiny-Tailed Iguanas basked in the sun, blending in seamlessly with the ruins’ stones. A glance out over the site revealed that much like everywhere else we’d visited so far, there weren’t very many other tourists around. There were a few small groups present this morning, but nothing like the numbers I would have expected in a country that is such major cruise destination. It had seemed like a bit of a gamble when I booked us a trip to Belize during the rainy season, but in this case the risk paid off. We’d barely experienced any rain, and it almost felt like we were the only tourists in the entire country.
I was still reflecting on how amazing our trip had been so far as we stepped onto the top level of El Castillo. We now stood roughly 130 feet above the ground, and it looked as though we were close enough to touch the fluffy, white clouds that had replaced the ominous, gray ones from earlier in the morning.
Miles of green canopy spread out below us in every direction. A glinting, white roadway cut a path through the trees to the east, marking the Guatemalan border. We strode to the front of the temple to look at the view of the rest of the site, which now looked tiny compared to our vantage point in the clouds.
The four of us took a break and sat in the shade of the top temple stones. We stared out over the scene below, trying our best to cement it in our memories before it was time to leave. A pleasant breeze cooled my over-heated skin, and I felt my energy returning. Eventually we all conceded that it was time to get going. I’d picked out a hike for the afternoon, so we couldn’t spend all day at Xunantunich, as beautiful as it was.
We started the descent down the stairs, stopping when we found a colony of stingless bees that had built a hive in a stone wall. There are several different species of stingless bee native to the Americas and ancient mayans were known to cultivate them with beekeeping. As we watched the bees hover around their hive, David remarked about how there seemed to be something new everywhere we looked in Belize.
After watching the bees for a few minutes, we finished the trek back down to the ground, returned to the Jeep, and then drove down to the river ferry. We rode the ferry back to the other side of the river, where we stopped at a souvenir market to search for some gifts to bring home to our families. Then I opened up the AllTrails app on my phone and retrieved some information on the trail I’d picked out. Vince pulled up a map to the Black Rock Lodge, and we were on our way.
Less than an hour later, we pulled into the parking lot of the Black Rock Lodge. This place was far off the beaten path, surrounded by some of the most beautiful forest we’d seen yet, and perched on a bluff above the inviting looking Macal River. I hadn’t arranged anything in advance, so I wasn’t one hundred percent sure we would be allowed to hike on their property without a reservation. We all grabbed our backpacks, and followed signs to the resort’s restaurant where we asked an employee if it was ok for us to go on the hike. She said yes, and pointed us in the direction of the trailhead.
As luck would have it, there was a White-Nosed Coati snuffling around in a patch of grass right at the trailhead. The others had ducked away to use the restroom before we starting hiking, which left me with plenty of time to photograph him. This coati was a large male, and I dug my long lens out of my bag so I could give him a wide berth. Coatis look cute and cuddly, but I definitely didn’t want to get on the wrong side of his sharp claws or teeth.
By the time everyone else was back from the bathroom, I had plenty of shots to choose from, and the coati was foraging his way further into the forest and out of sight. So with nothing left to distract us, we started trekking. The Black Rock Lodge Summit Trail would be a little over three miles from start to finish, and we’d be gaining about 1400 feet of elevation over the first half of the hike. We climbed slowly uphill, winding around switchbacks, and being careful not to slip on the muddy ground that was still wet from the previous night’s rain. By the fourth or fifth switchback, I was feeling nostalgic for the staircase on the side of El Castillo. It didn’t take long for sweat to soak my clothing, and the windless, humid air did nothing to wick it away. Soon I was as drenched as though I’d been swimming, an activity that was starting to sound much preferable to hiking.
I’m not going to sugarcoat it. This hike was a slog. The combination of the elevation gain and the extreme heat made for a somewhat miserable uphill battle, but the trek was punctuated every now and then by cool discoveries. We found the skull and spine of an animal we couldn’t identify, heard some howler monkeys roaring persistently far off in the distance (it’s amazing how far their voices travel), and spotted this gorgeous Ameiva lizard.
But even with these distractions, I was still overjoyed when we finally took our last uphill step, and emerged onto the summit where there was a much-appreciated bench to rest on. I snapped a few photos of the landscape before collapsing onto the bench next to the others. The view was ok, but it was mostly obstructed by treetops, and I wasn’t sure that it had been worth the massive effort that it took to reach it. I didn’t even bother editing any photos I took at the summit because they didn’t end up looking like much. The best part about making it the summit was that we would get to walk downhill from then on out.
We didn’t wait long to start the return trek. The hike was a loop, and we’d saved what was supposed to be the prettier half for the hike back down. Now that I wasn’t fighting against gravity with every step, I felt a bit perkier, and I found myself at the front of the group rather than lagging behind. We had to be even more careful on the slippery ground-going downhill is always more treacherous than going up-so I came to a complete halt any time I wanted to get a closer look at a cool plant. And there were a lot of cool plants. I was able to appreciate more details of the forest now that I could catch my breath again, and it was beautiful.
True to its reputation, this leg of the trail was definitely prettier. We stopped for another break when we arrived at a sprawling view of the Macal River, which flowed underneath fanciful looking mountains with rounded tops. Finally, a view to make the hike worth it!
After a long break to admire the landscape, we resumed our downhill trek until we came to a fork in the path. A trail sign indicated that the juncture would lead to a cave. Unfortunately that cave would have to be reached by descending down a very steep, muddy slope. I wasn’t so concerned with going down to the cave; my main objection was with inevitably having to climb back up again later. So I did exactly what every horror movie I’ve ever watched has taught me not to do. I split up with the rest of the group.
Everyone else wanted to go check out the cave, so I parked myself on a nearby boulder and said I would wait for them to return. The trio began descending the slope, and soon they were out of sight having vanished behind thick greenery. I sat on my rock quietly, hoping some wildlife might cross my path now that I was sitting still. Minutes passed and nothing happened. Several more minutes later the thought occurred to me that this would be a terrible time for a jaguar make an appearance.
After about a half hour I was beginning to regret my decision. No human sounds issued from the direction the others had gone, indicating that they weren’t close to returning yet. Suddenly I was struck by the thought that something might have happened to them. I glanced nervously at my surroundings and cautiously rose from my perch, feeling a bit silly about my own unease. Silly or not, I’d lost my apatite for sitting around in wait. I pursed my lips in resignation, and began carefully picking my way down the slippery trail.
I had to grab tree trunks to steady myself along the way, and crouched down to navigate over a couple of mud slicks, but eventually, the trail evened out and dead-ended at a small-mouthed cave. It didn’t look like much, but I knew Vince, Bonnie, and David must still be inside because there was still no sign of them.
This meant that I was going to have to go in after them. Ducking under the short entrance, I crept into the cave where I found my first clue. A pile of day packs sat neatly in the center of the first room. Behind the gear was total darkness. I didn’t have a good flashlight on me, so I pulled my phone out of my pocket and turned on its weak flashlight setting to get a better look at my surroundings. The dim light revealed a low tunnel at the back of the room. It had to be where they’d gone. No voices emanated from beyond the tube, so I felt that I had to crawl through to investigate.
Gritting my teeth in discomfort, I dropped onto hands and knees and began inching through the tunnel. I was wearing shorts and short sleeves, and the rocky cave floor scraped at my exposed skin as I wormed my way deeper into the cave. I was relieved when the tunnel finally ended and opened up into a second room where I could stand up again.
Somewhat confusingly, I could now hear voices echoing from somewhere nearby, but a sweep with my light only revealed a bat that swooped directly over my head. I must be missing something. Clearly they were back here somewhere, and their voices sounded calm and happy, so they couldn’t be stuck. But where were they?
Just then David’s head protruded from a hole in the cave floor. I hadn’t noticed the second passage because it looked like a cast shadow in the dim beam of my phone light. He was as surprised to see me as I was him, and soon Vince and Bonnie appeared through the opening as well.
I recounted the tale of my heroic rescue attempt, and the others caught me up on what they’d seen inside the cave as we crawled back through the first passage and emerged into daylight. From there, we resumed our hike and managed to finish the rest of the loop fairly quickly.
We arrived back at the Black Rock Lodge’s restaurant feeling overheated, weary, and in desperate need of a swim. Luckily another lodge employee told us we could their riverside beach if we wanted to cool off, so we changed into bathing suits and walked down another trail until we came to a sandy area on the bank of the Macal River.
Tall cliffs ran along the opposite bank of the river, and the water, although brown, was one of the most inviting sights I’ve ever seen.
There was a rope swing hanging from a large tree next to the river, and we took turns jumping off of it. David impressed everyone by performing flips when he let go of the swing. Splashing into the cool water felt downright amazing after such a demanding hike, and I love jumping off the swing-something I hadn’t done since I was a pre-teen. There were also areas that were good for cliff jumping, which I did not partake in this time. A pair of social flycatchers watched us from a tree branch, making their melodic chirping calls as we made fools of ourselves. We were all somewhat giddy now that we were refreshed and less sweaty.
Around sunset, we got out of the water and dried off. It was time to head back to the Mariposa Jungle Lodge for an early bedtime. Our wake-up call the next morning was 3:00 a.m. so we would need to try to get a few hours of sleep before then. We drove back to the lodge under the pastel colors of a lovely sunset. My brain was already recontextualizing the brutal hike and turning it into something more fun. It’s weird how something can feel absolutely miserable in the moment, and immediately turn into a fond memory the second it’s over.
I had no trouble falling asleep when we arrived back at the lodge. It was early, but the day had been exhausting enough that I drifted off as soon as the lights went out. In a few short hours, we would be awake again, and headed on a farther afield excursion to try to find some different species of Belizean wildlife!
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