In Search of History

Our long journey north from Semuc to Flores was interrupted by a mission of mercy to rescue our driver's cousin, who we had passed by chance, passed out at the wheel of his pickup which was on its side in a ditch, its axles at an impossible angle but, testimony to Jeremy Clarkson's exhaustive experiments into the durability of Toyota trucks (if you've seen that episode you'll know what I mean), 20 minutes later it was somehow back on the road and, to our horror, being driven onwards by said cousin who, reeking of alcohol, cheerfully told us that he had been out last night "celebrating" the birth of his new son. Oh dear.

Highlights of Flores included the fabulous 'Los Amigos' hostel and a curious pageant we stumbled across - part 'Miss Flores', part debutante 'coming out', accompanied by the ubiquitous school marching band. The real reason for our trip up here though was a visit to the Mayan ruins at Tikal, so at 4.30am we headed into the jungle to climb the impressive but unimaginatively named 'Temple 4' and watch the Sunrise to the sound of the jungle awakening. The Sunrise, as it turned out, was all but obscured by fog, but the gradual crescendo of screeching parrots and roaring howler monkeys rising from the darkness is something I will never forget. Once the sun was up we set off to explore the vast expanse of jungle and ruins amid the baking heat and suffocating humidity. Jana and I decided to dump our tour group - 30+ people, crashing through the undergrowth, jostling to hear the same explanation and photograph the same toucan - and spent a blissful few hours soaking up the tranquil, ancient atmosphere. We even managed to navigate our way back to our bus without too many complications.

In Search of History

Tikal, Guatemala