Our local guide, Jorge, met us in the lobby to take us on our tour to Barton Creek Cave. During the 45-minute bumpy jeep ride, rain came down in sheets. This made for an adventurous drive. But thankfully it let up as soon as we arrived.
Jorge stopped the car, pulled down an overhanging branch, and picked a few berries for us to taste. The leaves smelled so familiar, yet I couldn't place what it was. As we nibbled into them, the tips of our tongues became numb! They were from an Allspice tree.
We strapped on our spiffy blue life jackets and got cozy in the canoe. Me in front on flashlight duty, Hal in the middle on photo duty, and Jorge expertly steering from the back.
Jorge told us that the cave was a spiritual place for the ancient Mayans, used mostly for ceremonies and sacrifices. It was the gateway to the underworld. If a water droplet fell from a stalactite upon your head, it was considered a blessing.
That's a skull, people. A human skull! The remains of 28 humans have been found in this cave. Most of them teenage girls.
And those are bats! It was hard to capture their detail in the photo, but there are hundreds of them all huddled together. Creepy cool. They were right overhead and I was worried one would fall on me.
About a mile in, the stalactites hung so low that we had to stop. Jorge said this is where he usually turns around, but since he liked us, he let us bend down to go a little further. And bend down we did. Our heads were between our knees. Not for the claustrophobic!
On our way out, Jorge shut down the lights so we could get a feel for how dark it really was. After a few moments, our eyes didn't adjust. That's how dark it was. Jorge stopped paddling and we were perfectly still. The blindness was powerful. All we could see was black. All we could hear were drops of water.
We slowly made our way back toward the entrance. It started with a tiny speck of light. It grew and grew until I could no longer tell what was moving, us or the light. It was breathtaking. So beautiful, I was moved to tears.
Hal and I were almost at a lost for words. I asked Jorge about something I heard in the cave. It sounded like children laughing. Perhaps up above the cave or in a nearby town. He said no, they must have been ghosts. I'm sure he was joking, but the little girl in me believed it.
We climbed back into the jeep and bounced our way back to Blancaneaux in the pouring rain. That was by far one of the coolest things we've ever done.
Our local guide, Jorge, met us in the lobby to take us on our tour to Barton Creek Cave. During the 45-minute bumpy jeep ride, rain came down in sheets. This made for an adventurous drive. But thankfully it let up as soon as we arrived.
Jorge stopped the car, pulled down an overhanging branch, and picked a few berries for us to taste. The leaves smelled so familiar, yet I couldn't place what it was. As we nibbled into them, the tips of our tongues became numb! They were from an Allspice tree.
We strapped on our spiffy blue life jackets and got cozy in the canoe. Me in front on flashlight duty, Hal in the middle on photo duty, and Jorge expertly steering from the back.
Jorge told us that the cave was a spiritual place for the ancient Mayans, used mostly for ceremonies and sacrifices. It was the gateway to the underworld. If a water droplet fell from a stalactite upon your head, it was considered a blessing.
That's a skull, people. A human skull! The remains of 28 humans have been found in this cave. Most of them teenage girls.
And those are bats! It was hard to capture their detail in the photo, but there are hundreds of them all huddled together. Creepy cool. They were right overhead and I was worried one would fall on me.
About a mile in, the stalactites hung so low that we had to stop. Jorge said this is where he usually turns around, but since he liked us, he let us bend down to go a little further. And bend down we did. Our heads were between our knees. Not for the claustrophobic!
On our way out, Jorge shut down the lights so we could get a feel for how dark it really was. After a few moments, our eyes didn't adjust. That's how dark it was. Jorge stopped paddling and we were perfectly still. The blindness was powerful. All we could see was black. All we could hear were drops of water.
We slowly made our way back toward the entrance. It started with a tiny speck of light. It grew and grew until I could no longer tell what was moving, us or the light. It was breathtaking. So beautiful, I was moved to tears.
Hal and I were almost at a lost for words. I asked Jorge about something I heard in the cave. It sounded like children laughing. Perhaps up above the cave or in a nearby town. He said no, they must have been ghosts. I'm sure he was joking, but the little girl in me believed it.
We climbed back into the jeep and bounced our way back to Blancaneaux in the pouring rain. That was by far one of the coolest things we've ever done.
