The holidays we choose tend to have a warning in the brochure that you need a spirit of adventure because sometimes things don’t always go to plan. This was one such occasion. Lake Atitlan is a beautiful lake in Guatemala formed in an extinct volcano.
Lake Atitlan was on the tour route not only for its own beautiful scenery but to travel across it to Santiago Atitlan – one of the several Mayan Villages around its shore. We left the minibus and driver on the shore at Panajachel and set off with our luggage in a small boat to see what was in store. The forty minute journey across was uneventful, I was sitting inside the boat but a couple of our group were in an open area in the front and were enjoying the sunshine. I thought that would be a good idea for the way back – how wrong can you be?
Santiago was lovely place with a feeling of Mayan tradition. Tasks such as drying the harvest or washing the clothes were continuing as they had always done. The people were welcoming. We had a walk through the town and called in at the church where there were some children singing. The Catholic icons and statues were clothed in traditional Mayan dress.
We also visited the home of Maximon. Prior to the Catholics coming and introducing their new religion to the Mayans the Mayans had worshipped natural things like the sun and moon. They didn’t have idols and statues. So, not wanting to miss out they introduced Maximon. You’ll see various explanations if you look on line. They also took onboard the idea of offerings and decided that Maximon would be partial to tobacco and liquor. When you visit his shrine there are receptacles for both and his guardians look quite content.
Our hotel rooms were a set of lodges in the woodland where we were provided with wood for the fire. Apparently we were the only ones in the group to try this and all our clothes smelt of smoke for several days afterwards. We had a good evening meal of local food and settled down for the night.
After breakfast we helped carry the luggage to the boat for the trip back over the lake. The sun was shining and I took my planned place in the front of the boat. No-one joined me.
Santiago is in a sheltered bay of the lake – we set off. As the boat turned into the main lake the breeze appeared stronger. The lake became choppy and the boat began to bounce a bit – OK we carried on. Then the wind became stronger and the boat was splashing through the waves. Water was starting to splash in through the open windows at the sides and the boatman decided to wander in and pull down the plastic curtains. When he left holding the outboard motor the boat started turning across the waves and he was told to go back. The wind became stronger and the waves higher. The boat was now riding up one wave and dropping into the trough between waves with a bang. I was looking out front for the shore which seemed a very long way away. The boat was struggling to get up the waves as they got larger and I saw a big one coming and wondered how we’d climb that. We didn’t! The boat went through it – as so did I. I was totally drenched head to toe, front to back.
Based on our progress I’m thinking that it’s going to be another thirty minutes before we reach land. The lifejackets, which no-one has on, are in a pile in the middle of the boat. Out of reach from where I am and I’m not letting go to fetch one. I’m holding on to the side with one hand and each time the boat drops in a trough my arm bounces on the side. The photo is from a few days later showing the bruises. So, in a period that seemed forever we limped to the shore. I’m sure I’m not the only one who was wondering how people might remember me.
We did arrive – obviously – and it took an effort to walk ashore. Our driver was on hand to whisk us off to a local market and couldn’t understand why we weren’t interested. Our guide, normally enthusiastic as they are, was quiet and green looking – he’d been out the back alongside our boatman. Our group stood silently on the shore – that’s a picture of me drying in the sun. After a while someone said let’s go for a coffee and we did. We sat for nearly and hour not saying a lot until we eventually climbed on board the minibus and set off. The rest of the day was a bit of a blur.
One of our group had been reading a book about Guatemala but she hadn’t got to the bit about Lake Atitlan. When she did it mentioned tourist boats being lost – if you search for it it’s still happening.
Several days later in Costa Rica our guide was enthusing at breakfast about a surprise boat trip across a beautiful lake. She couldn’t understand why we weren’t keen. After a short discussion we agreed to go and look. It was a much larger boat and the lake was still. We went warily – it was OK.
