Journey To The Springs: A Day Hike On Pico Zunil

By Karen O’Sullivan

As the dark cloud swept up the mountainside, we scrambled to put on our protective gear, but we were not quick enough. The cloud hovered for a moment, enveloping us in its cold mist before continuing its journey to the peak. We were left feeling soggy and chilled, but our spirits were not dampened. Not everyone can claim they’ve been in a cloud.

We were hiking through the Pacific Could Forest on Pico Zunil in Western Guatemala on our way to the hot springs at Fuentes Georginas. We were a motley crew; Swiss guide, British photographer, Dutch ad-exec on holiday and two Yankee teachers looking for excitement during summer break. We were two hours into an eight-hour hike, eager to reach our destination. Our legs ached, but the promise of the soothing springs inspired us to keep going.

We followed a rolling trail through the mountainside; the ascent burning our tired quadriceps, the descent offering relief. Every hour, we stopped for water, rest and the inevitable "Kodak moment." At each stopping point, we looked around in wonder; volcanoes rose through the early morning mist, pine trees and patchwork fields dotted the hillside, Mayan villages stood defiantly in the volcanoes’ shadow. We couldn’t belief we were there.

The first half of the trek was uneventful. "Piece of cake," we mumbled to each other, wondering why we were worried about the long day. Our confidence turned to anxiety when the trail suddenly dropped away, leaving a gaping hole in the mountainside. We inspected the ten yards of missing earth and decided the path must have simply slid away. There was no other route to the hot springs so we had to find a way to cross the dangerous 30-foot stretch. We clung to vines decorating the cliff wall and moved carefully across the few inches of earth left jutting from the mountain. A misplaced foot would mean a rough tumble over jagged rock. After twenty tense minutes, we were all safely across, back on the trail.

After an hour of continuous uphill climbing, we breathed a collective sigh of relief when our guide told us the last hour would be all downhill. At first it was easy. We followed the guide’s advice, stepping heel first to avoid pain in our legs the next day. The slope was steep, but trees were plentiful to use as handholds. The guide and photographer moved ahead, leaving the rest of us to battle the trail on our own.

Another cloud swept by, leaving a slick path in its wake. "Baby steps, take baby steps," the Dutchman admonished as we catapulted in a zig zag course down the slippery slope, bouncing from tree to tree like pinballs sent whirling out of control.

We were not experienced hikers as he surely was, so we did as he said and inched our way down the trail. Moments later, we watched our mentor’s feet slip out from under him. We laughed as he landed on his back. "Baby steps, take baby steps," we chant in unison, reminding him of his own advise. We were so focused on our mirth that we forgot to be careful. Our laughter turned to screams as we felt our own feet shoot skyward. We, too, had fallen victim to the trail.

As we dusted off our bruised egos, a babble of voices drifted through the trees. We quickened our steps, not caring if we fell. We were almost there. Only moments passed before we reached the hotsprings and dropped gratefully into plastic chairs at the poolside bar. A round of Gallo was necessary as celebration. We were dirty, bruised and exhausted, but we had made it.

As the sun disappeared behind the mountain, leaving streaks of red against the darkening sky, we sank into the soothing volcanic springs. Most of the clouds had moved up the mountainside, so we enjoyed a celestial light show as we relaxed our tired muscles.

A trio of young men crooned a Simon and Garfunkel tune. We joined in, feeling strangely at home in this far away place. We sang along to Billy Joel, Carly Simon and Crosby, Stills and Nash; our voices echoing against the mossy cliff and drifting away into the thick forest that surrounded us. Later that evening, we stumbled to our stone huts, rustic and primitive, but a welcome sight for our weary bodies.

We woke up to a chilly morning, so warmed up with a steamy outdoor bath. Then it was time to move out. Our guide told us he had spotted a Quetzal in the forest above the springs. We scrambled up the path, eager to see the elusive bird. We had only climbed ten feet when our legs screamed in protest. We couldn’t face the mountain again.

Pico Zunil is part of the Zunil volcano found in the Sierra Madres Mountains in Quetzaltenango, Guatemala. Adventurous travelers can follow a path that starts at the hotsprings in Fuentes Georginas. It winds its way up through subtropical rainforest to the Pacific cloud forest near the top. A panoramic view is offered from the peak, which rises to an elevation of 11,621 feet (3,542 meters.) Eight volcanoes can be spotted on a clear day, as well as several indigenous villages scattered throughout the area. For more information contact:

Mayan Bike Tours

1a Ave. Sur #15, Antigua, Guatemala

Tel/Fax: 011-502-832-2071

www.mayanbike.com

Karen O’Sullivan spends most of her time teaching in an elementary school classroom, escaping to unique worldwide destinations during summer break. Karen’s goal is to travel the world, visiting the places that the average person would never dream of going. Karen has worked as a freelance writer for two years.