I may end up with dysentary. And if I´ve learned anything from Oregon Trail that means my health will decline quickly until my death is signified with a sorrowful midi fanfare. I just want to say, before that fateful moment, that I´ve enjoyed my time with you all. Too bad I was brought down by a fateful kayak trip.Before anyone panics let me explain- yesterday was what was supposed to be Jamil and my awesome kayak/Monterrico beach trip with Old Town Outfitters. It started out well- the two of us piled into a large van, our kayaks strapped to the roof, and our tour guide (Webber I think...) 
behind the wheel. Jamil who had recently taken a day trip to the Volcano Pacaya was lamenting about the dissapointing lack of lava he witnessed. Webber (prononced with a Spanish emphasis), filled him in on the history of the activity of the volcanos surrounding Antigua (there are 3. Two of which are active- Pacaya and Fuego). "If you are lucky," he said "you may see Fuego explode". Well it was our lucky day and as we rounded the bend and Fuego came into view we could see the distinctive plume of smoke/ash rising from it´s peak. In fact we were doublly lucky because perhaps 30 minutes later as Pacaya came into view we saw a series of explosions errupt from its volcanic maw. 
Now keep in mind these are a frequent occurance and nothing like the massive lava spewing disasters Pierce Brosnan and the movie studios in Hollywood have lead us to belive are the inevitable consequence of an active volcano.
behind the wheel. Jamil who had recently taken a day trip to the Volcano Pacaya was lamenting about the dissapointing lack of lava he witnessed. Webber (prononced with a Spanish emphasis), filled him in on the history of the activity of the volcanos surrounding Antigua (there are 3. Two of which are active- Pacaya and Fuego). "If you are lucky," he said "you may see Fuego explode". Well it was our lucky day and as we rounded the bend and Fuego came into view we could see the distinctive plume of smoke/ash rising from it´s peak. In fact we were doublly lucky because perhaps 30 minutes later as Pacaya came into view we saw a series of explosions errupt from its volcanic maw. Now keep in mind these are a frequent occurance and nothing like the massive lava spewing disasters Pierce Brosnan and the movie studios in Hollywood have lead us to belive are the inevitable consequence of an active volcano.As we drove through the lush countryside I felt imensly happy. The day was beautiful, we had witnessed two volcanos, and as we wizzed past fields of sugarcane and large eared cows I cheerily chatted with Webber. About two hours after leaving Antigua we arrived at our drop-off point. The plan was simple- kayak through the mangroves (a vast wetland near Motorrico beach) and arrive at the beach aproximately two hours later for lunch, then spend an hour or so chilling on the beautiful black sand beach before kayaking back to our van.
The Mangroves are, I imagine, similar to many types of wetlands.
Vast waterways winding between trees and grasses that some parts of the year are not underwater. Some portions are wide and riverlike- snaking from the small towns that sit on its banks, around a series of islands and eventually reaching the ocean. (At least I belive it reaches the ocean. We never did.) However, once one leaves the safty of the open spaces the Mangroves are a dense and complex maze of narrow waterways that run through a tangled mass of tree roots. The water, resembling a fragrant broth of rotting vegitation and fish,was unmistakably not potable and the smell soon clung to our clothes as it sprayed from our paddles in waves of droplets as we struggled through the barly-kayak-sized openings between root systems and branches.
But before I sound too bitter too early let me go back to the begining of the trip.
Vast waterways winding between trees and grasses that some parts of the year are not underwater. Some portions are wide and riverlike- snaking from the small towns that sit on its banks, around a series of islands and eventually reaching the ocean. (At least I belive it reaches the ocean. We never did.) However, once one leaves the safty of the open spaces the Mangroves are a dense and complex maze of narrow waterways that run through a tangled mass of tree roots. The water, resembling a fragrant broth of rotting vegitation and fish,was unmistakably not potable and the smell soon clung to our clothes as it sprayed from our paddles in waves of droplets as we struggled through the barly-kayak-sized openings between root systems and branches. But before I sound too bitter too early let me go back to the begining of the trip.The first hour was heaven. Crusing along the water between the wide open patches and the cavernous tunnels of trees, we saw birds and exotic lizards, glowing waterlillies standing regally between patches of lillyponds, and small thatched roofed houses that stood on the banks of small islands in the middle of the Mangroves. The sky was clear and the sun was perfect.
However, somewhere between the second and third hour I suddenly became concerned.
Our guide, on several occasions reqeusted we stay put as he went ahead to make sure we could get through. At first this seemed like a courtious act, not wanting us less experienced kayakers to get stuck, however eventually it became evident that perhaps there was a bigger problem. We were lost. The last three hours we frantically followed behind him as he lead us through increasingly narrow passages that proved incredibly difficult for us to navigate. Eventually we would always hit a point where he would say "wait here" and we would sit for 10-20 minutes as the foul water permiated our pores and the awareness of the multitude of insects crawling along our boats made us squirm with anticipated discomfort. This was especially true after we floated by what I quickly recognized as a tarrantula, either dead, or balled up because it was in the water- I didn´t wait to find out.
Our guide, on several occasions reqeusted we stay put as he went ahead to make sure we could get through. At first this seemed like a courtious act, not wanting us less experienced kayakers to get stuck, however eventually it became evident that perhaps there was a bigger problem. We were lost. The last three hours we frantically followed behind him as he lead us through increasingly narrow passages that proved incredibly difficult for us to navigate. Eventually we would always hit a point where he would say "wait here" and we would sit for 10-20 minutes as the foul water permiated our pores and the awareness of the multitude of insects crawling along our boats made us squirm with anticipated discomfort. This was especially true after we floated by what I quickly recognized as a tarrantula, either dead, or balled up because it was in the water- I didn´t wait to find out.As the hours passed and it was evident that this was no longer part of the intended trip Jamil and I grew increasingly weary. Each trudge forward was met with a nessisary backtrack, and no explanation as to where we were going or what his plan was. Just an occasional "this way" as he sped ahead and we struggled through branches and roots and shallow water to keep him in our sight.
Finally-around 4´oclock (we had gotten in the water around 11) he lead us to a place where a tree streched across the water too close for us to boat under.
"All we have to do," he said "is climb out of our boats, pull them over the log and get back in." I stared at him. Knowing he wasn´t kidding but hoping that maybe I was wrong. I thought about the distinct potentiality of tiping my kayak while trying to scramble back in and sending myself and my belongings into the dark murkey pungent soup. I made him promise, about three times, that if we did this it would definitely lead to an exit. He promised and I reluctantly allowed him to help me out of my kayak and onto a thin less-than-stable log. He managed to pull my kayak up and over and helped me back in without the occurance of my dreaded overboard.
Luckily he was right and after a frantic dash by him- with us trying vainly to keep up- we reached a riverbank. We got our of our canoes and found ourselves in a small town, across from a run down resort. Wet, exhausted, sweaty and filthy we followed our guide into the resort where he said we would eat lunch. After he ordered us a round of Gallos I calmed down a little. He told us the plan- we would hire a dude to drive our canoes to a dock where we and them would be transfered to a boat and taken back to our van. We were too tired, and it was too late to care too much about missing the beach. We also figured we would have a better case for getting the refund we planned to demand if we had been denied a portion of the promised excursion.
S
o we trucked it, and boated it, and crawled into the van to head back to Antigua as the sun was going down. As we once again drove past the rich green fields of sugarcane and sleepy cows I dreamed of the shower I would take and the epic blog I would post. However the day was not yet done with us, and suddenly it began to pour. While this is typical for Guatemala (it rains almost every day in the evening) this proved especially problematic because of a portion of the road between us and Antigua that had been partially damaged during the massive floods in May. On our way down Webber had pointed it out to us explaining how the water normally passed under but when it rains a lot it will come up and over turning a wide section into a temporary river. As we drew close to that second we knew we were in trouble. Traffic slowed, then stopped. From the back seat where I was curled up wanting to sleep through the rest of the trip I heard Jamil and Webber saying something about a car and the river. I sat up and looked ahead of us. Through the darkness I could see the outline of a small car and the torrents of water that had engulfed it. Evidently a family had attempted to go across and become stuck just as the water was rising. They had gotten out safely but the car was at the mercy of the pounding current. The policia had closed down the road and traffic quickly backed up for miles on either side. We got out of our cars and stood around in the downpour watching the car and the attempts to pull it out. Eventually, after a tractor and twelve men shifted the car away from the depths and the rocks blocking its way it was removed. The water subsided. We crossed.
o we trucked it, and boated it, and crawled into the van to head back to Antigua as the sun was going down. As we once again drove past the rich green fields of sugarcane and sleepy cows I dreamed of the shower I would take and the epic blog I would post. However the day was not yet done with us, and suddenly it began to pour. While this is typical for Guatemala (it rains almost every day in the evening) this proved especially problematic because of a portion of the road between us and Antigua that had been partially damaged during the massive floods in May. On our way down Webber had pointed it out to us explaining how the water normally passed under but when it rains a lot it will come up and over turning a wide section into a temporary river. As we drew close to that second we knew we were in trouble. Traffic slowed, then stopped. From the back seat where I was curled up wanting to sleep through the rest of the trip I heard Jamil and Webber saying something about a car and the river. I sat up and looked ahead of us. Through the darkness I could see the outline of a small car and the torrents of water that had engulfed it. Evidently a family had attempted to go across and become stuck just as the water was rising. They had gotten out safely but the car was at the mercy of the pounding current. The policia had closed down the road and traffic quickly backed up for miles on either side. We got out of our cars and stood around in the downpour watching the car and the attempts to pull it out. Eventually, after a tractor and twelve men shifted the car away from the depths and the rocks blocking its way it was removed. The water subsided. We crossed. We arrived home at 9:30. Tired, filthy and generally pretty anoyed. I took a shower and passed out cold. Lets hope our trip to Tekal this weekend has a better ending.
Wow... what "adventures" you are having lol.
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