We arrive at
the cave in the early morning light and plunge into the darkness with ferocity.
Bright eyes adjust to smoky candlelight, and nostrils to must and dirt and
water.
We are
outside of Lanquin, a tiny tranquil and undulating village in achingly
beautiful central Guatemala. We arrived here via a jarring jeep, but now, the
cave is immediately calming, like the ocean.
Through the
cave we march with one hand free, the other holds tightly to a flickering
candle. In an opaque plume, soft
eerie light escapes to dance and sway on the solid rock walls, a creature of
the dim that our free hands touch, instinctively, to feel the light and the
damp and the grainy stacked earth. There is laughter and shouting. Good fortune
engulfs the ancient cracks and tight spaces around us. Solid and impenetrable.
My sandals rub as they are makeshift and tied to my feet with yellow rope.
We approach a
dark and mystic pool. At first the water is shallow enough to walk in. Ghostly
splashes are echoed, and the cold water sends up shivers and bumps. Now the water
is deep. It should be awkward, swimming with only one hand, the other aloft and
gripping, but we are gliding through a current that doesn’t exist here. Rough
rocks scrape skin to the depths, breathing quickens and is purposely calmed. The
desert yellow light is enchanting.
The cavern
becomes a tunnel. A ledge appears and we must jump. It is an exit to freedom
and truly a leap of faith. A torch shines into the pool of inky black. It must
be at least 3 metres to the empty surface. I am utterly terrified – a fear of
what lies beneath the velvety film below, but I must jump. I chant under my
breath and I’m off, hitting the water hard. My breath buckles in the horrid coId.
I am shocked and elated and scrambling over rocks. In the
distance damaged sunlight trickles behind a curtain of dust, and our escape
from the cave is swift.
Close by
there are water pools that shimmer in the overcast light, a natural limestone
crossing over the Rio Cahabon.
Broken sunbeams puncture a rolling grey canopy
and the colours below are lit in streams, glittering turquoise blue, water
green, iridescent sienna and ochre and cascading white. The serpentine river
ripples slowly, through the jungle floor, its valley edges a blur of bright
green puffs billowing skyward.
The water pulls and thirsts, begging me to dive
in. It is wonderfully cool and cleansing - all silky skin and a million shiny
tingling bubbles. Towards the surface the heady sapphire glow of water and
light warms my face in immense contrast to the depths of the cave. I leave the
water lightly to perch on a cold hard rock, surrounded by moss and ferns,
insects, and the song of secret quetzals. I am nothing but nature, and worthy
of the jungle around me.