We left Caye Caulker the same way we had come in, on the chunky speedboat back to Belize City, and found our way to the rather run down bus station to catch a bus to San Ignacio, in the west of the country. A lot of the regular buses in central america are old US school buses, some of them still the trademark yellow. They're bouncy, and the seats have probably more than seen their last day, so you end up being bounced into the metal frame. This is OK for a short journey to the shops, but it's a bit of an arse cruncher when you're travelling across country. That said, Belize is pretty small, so getting to San Ignacio took about three hours or so, and it was interesting to see the country pass by through the windows. Central america is unbelieveably lush and green, blessed with rolling hills and tropical plants dripping with flowers. On arrival at San Ignacio we faffed about a bit trying to find a place to stay, eventually settling on J&R hostel, run by a kindly elderly man. We told him we were interested in visiting the Actun Tunichil Muknal (ATM) caves and he told us we would get a deal if we mentioned his name at Mayawalk Tours down in the town. We'd already decided we were heading there anyway, and I guess it wasn't too much of a surprise to hear that his 'deal' was not exclusive and every other hostel and B&B in town were offering this discount! We booked the cave trip for the next morning and decided on doing cave tubing the following day. At the tour office we made friends with the lovely Kim, an ecologist from home who`d already visited the caves that day and said they were brilliant.
The next morning broke to one of the most amazing experiences of my journey so far (so sorry, but this might be a bit of a long one). Our bus (an old school one of course) headed back on the road to Belmopan, stopping to pick up our lunch, rucksacks and helmets along the way, finally turning off on to a bumpy muddy road leading down the tracks towards the cave. As the bus lurched in and out of the ditches, our guides pointed out the various crops being grown in the fields by the road in neat rows: mahogany, oranges, and the very odd looking cotton tree, that had a ring of thorns round its base like a giant rose. Throughout the day our guide were great, highlighting plans and animals and describing their function in the jungle.
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| whatever this was, it was rank |
We started our hike through the jungle - it wasn`t long or strenuous, but it was interesting and fantastic fun. Within a few metres of the start of the trail we were waist height in water, crossing quite a fast moving river. Luckily we had known what to expect and we were both wearing pretty much just swimming gear. We`d managed to borrow some trainers from Mayawalk, which was great because the only closed shoes either of us had were hiking boots, which we didn`t fancy getting wet. Our guide Carlos told us he used to work for the British army (still stationed in Belize in areas) as a tracker, and as we hiked he pointed out tracks of big cats in the mud, and did slightly odder things like coaxing a tarantula out of its hidey hole. We were given leaves to taste and told of their medicinal properties (some were more pleasant than others), and crossed the river two more times before we reached the base camp area.
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| eel first aid with a machete |
We stopped for a rest and got our stuff together for entering the cave. We would leave our bags here, and Carlos would take cameras in his dry bag - although Clare had her waterproof one too so we kept that ourselves. After eating some suspiciously orange crisps, I rinsed my hands in the river, and then, struck by all the silvery fish, wondered whether any good photos would come out, so I borrowed Clare`s camera and stuck it under the water. Needless to say they were crap, but a few moments later Clare thought she would have a go.
There was a shriek from behind me, and I turned to see Clare looking a bit surprised, with blood running down her fingers, exclaiming "some fucker bit me!". Carlos rinsed her finger in drinking water, exposing the (quite deep) bite marks, and exclaimed it to be an eel. After iodining and wrapping her up, he took the camera back to the water and managed to get some photos of the attacker, which was sticking up and holding still as though it were a stick. But I won't post them here, they're simply too horrifying and evil.
After getting over the shock of this vicious, unprovoked attack, we let the other group go first, and climbed over the rocks to the right of the cave into the deep pool immediately under the cave entrance. It's quite hard swimming in trainers, you know. We climbed up quite a steep ledge and followed Carlos round into the river flowing out of the cave.
As we moved away from the light of the entrance, it was clear how dark it was inside, and the light from our helmets barely penetrated this darkness. The water was a constant roar in our ears, and we moved up the river in pairs, passing on warnings to the pair behind us if there was a sharp ledge or a big rock under the water. I stayed at the back, and occasionally I would turn and look behind me, half expecting to see something or someone else. We climbed up through the river for maybe two hours, clambering over massive boulders and up slippery ledges, all the time wading through the rushing water, which was at points sometimes so strong it felt as though it would sweep you away. There were lots of ways you could get hurt, and it was pretty important to be sure footed and not let yourself slip, as if you do there are lots of sharp rocks under the water waiting to stab you. It was striking to think that hundreds of years ago the Mayans had climbed up into these caves with only firelight, and at points Carlos told us there were little grooves where fires would have been lit along the way. At points we were swimming again, the bed of the river at some untold depth.
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| Clare and I swimming through the caves |
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| Clare and Carlos in the cathedral |
Along the way Carlos pointed out to us the natural formations of the rock; where the lime was active and slimy like some sort of cave troll snot, and where it was inactive, sparkling like thousands of microscopic gemstones. At one point along the river there was a patch of earthy ground where, inexplicably, there grew a cluster of green and healthy looking plants in the darkness. There were holes in the soft ceiling above us that had been dug out by bats, but sadly they were not to be seen any more, kept away by the noise and lights of human visitors.
We reached our destination point. There was a large rock to our right, and above that a very steep incline of about 15ft of rocky earth that looked climeable. Carlos directed us how to climb the rock, where to put our feet, and we navigated round it onto the ledge above. It was a bit of a scramble to the top, but then we were away from the river crashing below. Carlos told us to take off our shoes and walk in our socks, to avoid damaging the fragile floor but keeping out the oils and bacteria from our feet. Both were full of river grit. All around us, half buried in the earth, were bits of pottery and little orange ribbons denoting the areas where we should not step. Carlos told us a little about the cave, which was believed to represent an entrance to the Mayan underworld Xibalba.
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| Pot with monkey detail |
We climbed up through a small entrance and found ourselves in the 'cathedral', a giant cavern decorated with massive stalactites and stalagmites millions of years old. Everywhere beneath our feet were Mayan artefacts, thousands of years old, some smashed and in pieces, some whole, all calcified into the earth. We took a lot of photographs, but many of them have not come out well due to the flash catching the tiny droplets of moisture present in the air. Carlos told us that 98% of the artefacts were untouched. It's incredible that they have not been removed to a museum, but it seems that there is nowhere suitable to take them, and here remains the safest place.
This was a place of sacrifice. Archeologists have recorded the remains so far of 14 humans, the majority of which are children. On ledges, out of reach and away from our sight, were skeletons of babies that were sacrificed by the Mayans. Carlos warned us to keep our cameras away from the artefacts to avoid damaging them, and at one point threatened to take away the (very nice) camera of one of our group as the lady insisted on placing her camera so close to the remains. As if to highlight the point, we later came across a smashed ulna, and when Clare asked what had happened to it, Carlos shrugged and said "a tourist dropped their camera on it".
It is clearly very sad to think that such precious remains could be destroyed by someone behaving so carelessly, but this strengthened something that both Clare and I were already feeling: should we be here? Not just anybody is allowed to come into the caves; the Belizean tourist board has only granted licenses for a small number of tour companies to conduct them, and the groups are small. To prevent any further erosion to the site, it seems obvious that it's only a matter of time before the caves are closed to tourists for good. To have any higher number of visitors enter the caves would equal destruction of the site. That doesn't address the fact that it's a sacred area, and having it as a tour site doesn't sit well with many people of Mayan descent. We both felt a sort of selfish catch 22 about this: on the one hand, we felt privileged to be able to see such a place, but on the other, we felt that we didn't want anyone else to go there or to threaten what remains.
We picked our way carefully through the cathedral, coming to an area where a 20ft ladder had been erected. Two of our group, including Clare, have a real problem with heights, so it was a case of pacing it and going slowly. As we all gathered at the top, Carlos asked us all to turn off our headtorches and sit for a few moments in silence. After a minute or two, he asked us each to say a few words about how we felt coming into the caves. It could have been cheesy, and anywhere else it would have been, but it wasn't.
We moved on and climbed a little further down, until we reached a chamber that led no further, and here, sprawled on the floor, lay the Crystal Maiden.
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| the Crystal Maiden |
Carlos told us that he thought she lay exactly in the position that she died; there are apparently cracks in her spine, and she lays in such a way that it looks as though she were pushed backwards. Of course we will never know exactly what happened, or why she was sacrificed.
Coming back down the ladder was a little more traumatic than coming up, but we made our way back to where we had left our shoes and negotiated our way out of the cave, hiking back down the river the same way we had come in. Carlos had obviously judged our temperaments by this stage, and decided it would be funny to hide from us on top of ledges and take our photos. He deliberately took us back the hard way, squeezing through tight areas that only our necks would fit through, sliding down ledges into whirlpools where the water was so strong it almost took my shorts off.
I've had many adventures so far, and clearly the whale sharks and the manatees are up there as experiences of a lifetime, but I will never forget our trip to the ATM caves, which is probably one of the most fun, interesting and exciting things I've done in the last ten years.
