“There’s nothing better than finding a new place that serves as home, hundreds of miles away from where a person started. It comes with the revelation that a person’s place in this world is chosen, not locked and foretold.” – Old Sean
Welcome to Guatemala
After an extended period of time gambling around South America, I’ve jump-roped over the equator once more and find myself on the world’s Northern Hemisphere. Instead of rushing back to the United States where things are cold and expensive, I gave myself time to work in Central America, specifically striking out towards Lake Atitlan in Guatemala.
After a considerable number of hours blinking time away during a layover in Bogota, I managed to reach Guatemala City, where I took an Uber to a small hostel near the city’s center.
Guatemala has a somewhat profound reputation for being unsafe. But a fair share of that reputation stems from the tumultuous nights found in the urban sprawl here. I made a point of staying near Old Town in Centro to ensure a modicum of safety, but my host here recommended I be back inside well before night fell.
To be frank, I don’t think the area I was staying in was all that dangerous. But with all things, it’s often easy as well as wise to err on the side of caution. I spent the daylight hours checking out Plaza de la Consititucion and Palacio Nacional de la Cultura where stray dogs wandered the park space in small trotting tribes and people sat in the open air, squinting slightly against the sunset at passersbys.
I quickly determined that Guatemala City didn’t have any profound draw for me. There was very little on message boards that interested me and the expenses of staying in the city when compared to the more interesting countryside was clear.
As such, I spent the evening planning my exodus, leaving for the wide spaces and sharp-topped mountains of Lake Atitlán.
Getting Around Guatemala
What I didn’t quite realize was the reality of transportation in Guatemala. The roads are somewhat varying when considering their quality and the routes are etched over extremely rugged terrain. The short fifty miles to the Lake required five hours of backcountry driving and I wasn’t able to find any direct shuttles at an acceptable rate. Even finding a shuttle at an acceptable rate required a fair chunk of time in the town of Antigua before another vehicle could take me the rest of the way.
Antigua is sort of the tourist lightning rod of the country. It’s small enough to avoid the major crimes of Guatemala City, central enough that outward transport is always going through the center, quaint enough that the streets are charming to walk down, affordable enough that it makes a good forward operating base and quiet enough that visiting still feels a bit like discovery.
I walked through the narrow town streets for most of the morning, spending my wee hours getting photos of the sunlight gradually gold-painting buildings. The brown-chalk colored cobbled streets of Antigua almost perfectly lead East to West, giving spectacular alleys of morning sunrises shooting down roads.
Twisting Drive
Following a quick breakfast, I wandered back to my small travel agency for my next ride north.
I settled in for a rocking and twist mountain drive, rather enjoying my book and the scenery. This part of the world in February is devoid of an excess of moisture, so the mountains are filled with gnarled, leafless plants which create a secondary outline over ridges like sparse brown, coarse hairs. Cliff walls are often sheered away by time to reveal craggy grey stones and there is a miasma of slight haze that decorates the distance, giving incoming terrain a ghostly hue. I was fine quietly reading my book during the ride, but another person on my shuttle seemed to have trouble with the tilts and turns, quietly vomiting into a plastic bag.
The one thing I hate about vomiting is it’s similarity to yawning. Seeing someone else do it encourages a mirrored response. I’m not terribly fond of losing my stomach, largely because I put so much effort into getting decent foods in the first place. As such, I spent the rest of my ride aggressively immersing myself in my book.
Now, one of the hallmarks of Guatemala is a certain lack of information regarding tourism in the country. There are people who offer advice and online forums, but these must be hunted down or asked after. By and large, Guatemala is a slightly mysterious place in terms of internet preparation. With that in mind, I expected my arrival to be different than my imagination, and I was swiftly proven correct.
Arriving at Lake Atitlán
The main entry point to Lake Atitlán is Panajachel, called Pana by the locals as a shorthand. This is considered the ultimate tourist town along the lake, and it’s somewhat noisy when compared to other places. Pana has very flat streets with numerous shops that are slightly more expensive than other places on the lake. There are the usual brightly colored buildings which house lots of tourist knick-knacks, but it’s the fabric which remains the most eye-catching.
Lake Atitlán is known as being a cultural stronghold for the Mayan people. Though descendants of the Mayans are spread across Central America, with major populations being closely tied to Yucatan in Mexico, Lake Atitlán has arguably the most-intact culture.
Not powerfully overwhelmed by Spaniards and their architecture, the people around the difficult terrain of Lake Atitlán were somewhat sheltered from overt colonialism. As such, the communities are small, intimate and widely spaced and the fabrics on sale or being used by locals is wonderfully bright and patterned. Women especially lean towards the Mayan heritage using deep vermilions, navy blues, embroidery of reflective metals and splashes of striking yellow in traditional dresses and shoulder shawls.
I ignored most of the shopping opportunities here and gorged myself with a vengence on blueberry pancakes and fresh-made dumpling at a tiny restaurant called Las Chinitas. Once considerably rounder, I ended up concluding my meal with cookies and coffee at a café called Asawa-ko, which had stable enough WIFI to watch some TV shows and inform my host that I was arriving at my lake-house lodgings soon.
Ferried Home
Upon leaving Pana, I got my firsthand experience of Lake Atitlán travel; water taxis. Lake Atitlán uses comically small motorboats with narrow benches which make sporadic hops from one lakeside town to another. The boats rotate through the lake clockwise and counterclockwise from 6:30 AM to 7:30 PM. There are no set time schedules, as boats just kind of go whenever they have enough people to make a hefty transportation profit, but they usually have enough people every ten minutes or so before cycling out, even during slow hours of the day.
Rides for foreigners are 25 Quetzals, which comes out to be three or fours United States Dollars. There are naturally poachers located just in front of the docking area, especially at Pana who try to lead people onto private vehicles, which are not much faster and usually cost three or four times as much.
The rides across the lake are either extremely horrid or utterly serene. There really isn’t any in-between. There are days when the wind is still and the sky is clear, sharp-edged mountains are rendered a glassy blue in the distance and sun beats down on crystalline waters. The boats follow the shoreline, where reeds grow between large grey stones rounded smooth and low trees rustle placidly along watersides. Boats kick up a soft spray of water and free wind tickles passengers, even when the boat is somewhat packed.
However, when the wind picks up, all comfort flees out the window. A choppy lake means drivers thrust boats into waves, shattering water and causing spine-compressing jerks as the vessel bounces. Despite plastic windows, certain seats on the boat (most especially the front and back) are splashed during drenching plunges, soaking the sides and gradually filling the metal bottom with slick, chilly water. In the rain, which arrives only rarely, all comfort is totally robbed as wells from the lake and mists from the sky easily enter the semi-sheltered cabin, wholly drenching the brave few inside.
Life on the Lake
Fortunately, the weather around Lake Atitlán has been enormously mild thus far, allowing easy forays into other towns on a semi-regular basis. I’m personally based just outside of Santa Cruz in a resort directly on the Lake’s shore. My new home has a small room with a narrow double bed and a shared shower with truly splendid water pressure. The state of my bedroom is rendered somewhat moot, since the property’s main draw is a shady, outdoor garden-jungle with power outlets and public kitchens available. I spend my entire workday outside with a few brief trips inside for snacks.
There are four hammocks stung out under a pair of pavilions which are perfect for snoozing in the slightly chilly breezes rushing off the lakeside. Most of the gardens are crammed with flowering plans and certain patches actively produce bananas and peaches for guest consumption when ripe. Tiny stone trails loop in unexpected directions to the houses located at the back and there are always at least two men expanding upon the garden’s diversity. Better still, there are several docking platforms leaving the property and hanging into the lake, where guests often sit and eat to watch the sun rise or practice daily yoga.
A Visit to Santa Cruz
Slave to a long-indoctrinated wakeup time, I usually arise before most other guests and wander the rocky shorelines of Santa Cruz, following the narrow paths past stray dogs, bobbing boats, yellowed bamboo patches and black ducks which create a perfectly grand racket by themselves.
The actual town of Santa Cruz isn’t too special. Located further up a steep valley, there are the usual haphazard jumble of somewhat poor shops and homes which make splendid foods at a very cheap price, but I wouldn’t call the township pretty. Nevertheless, going uphill is pretty simple since there are many red tuk-tuks located near the dock which eagerly bring people uphill. These tiny red vehicles are of enormous amusement to me, since the owners decorate them with profoundly manly decals to offset very tiny, high-whining engines. There are Fast and Furious logos, Super Saiyan symbols, Transformer logos, Batman decals and Muay Thai silhouettes boxing.
Sadly, much like taxi-drivers of the modern world, these tuk-tuk drivers deserve some caution and skepticism. They often try to overcharge for the five minute drive uphill and in many cities around Lake Atitlán, phones are often stolen (happened to my neighbor) and purposefully looping routes are taken to justify more money. In my opinion, there isn’t a town around Lake Atitlán that can’t be easily walked and I’ve chosen to avoid these vehicles altogether. However, if one really needs to save their energy, negotiate a price beforehand, keep a hand on all valuable and always pay in exact change so drivers don’t claim an oversized “tip” instead of returning money.
Caution Hikes
An unfortunate aspect of Lake Atitlán is the crime. Because it’s such a small series of countryside communities in such a beautiful setting, people generally let their guards down a bit further than they should. Stories of muggings on the hiking trails around the lake are very common, usually involving threats or attacks by people with machetes.
I’ve personally done several solo hikes aroudn the lake and I’ve not been confronted or harmed. And likewise, I know several other people who jog certain routes without trouble. But there are enough stories that are heard monthly or so that caution is warranted. The foothill paths are so steep, interspaced, isolated and difficult to traverse and there is such a huge tourist and expat population in an otherwise poor series of towns that it’s very difficult to police what crime there is in the area.
The San Marcos Hike
Warnings aside, I’m tremendously fond of Lake Atitlán. The land is beyond stunning and transport is wondrously cheap. After my first day in Santa Cruz, I got myself a fake wallet in the event of muggers, sturdy shoes, plenty of sunscreen, a hidden jacket-pouch for my camera and opted to hike one of the more popular trails around the Lake’s edge. The Santa Cruz to San Marcos route is a challenging hike which involves a lot of steep stairs and requires three hours to walk properly. It’s easiest to start in Santa Cruz because there’s only one road leading on the route, making it difficult to veer or get lost. The route leads to the small series of lakeside retreats called Jaibalito, sending walkers via brown signs inland to steeper trails.
I passed through the sharp terrain, watching as the horizon gradually brightened. The two tallest, conical mountains of Lake Atitlán quickly darkened into view as I walked, steep slopes rising over choppy waters. My route took me past several men walking to work, all of them carrying machetes to their daily tasks. Likewise, many medium, sharp eared dogs bounded past, paws dancing slightly as they sniffed around. I walked through a small, grungy village called Tzununa which has a concerning amount of dog poop decorating the streets. I was happy to delve back into the walking trails afterwards.
It was only when I reached the upper portions of a nameless trail I met a fairly challenging obstacle. The dogs around Lake Atitlán aren’t treated the best. They sometimes trot away from people and the more timid ones look up with lonesome, soulful eyes when a person finally reaches down to pet them. Dogs in cities with large numbers of expats (such as San Marcos) tend to be much more on the friendly side. But as I made my way to a cliffside bend, I was confronted with an extremely irate brown canine which let loose and endless torrent of aggressive, teeth-bared barks. Any attempt to get past resulted in short lunges towards me, and I wasn’t confident enough to force myself closer.
The Romanians have a saying I like. “The dog who barks the loudest bites the least.” But that’s not necessarily something I was eager to test on my own limbs. I ended up getting a large and sturdy walking stick for protection, but this wasn’t enough of a deterrent either. When I stooped for a rock (I’d never throw a rock at a dog, but sometimes they flee at the action) the barking redoubled.
Unable to go forward and too weary to hike all the way back, I leaned on my defensive walking stick and waited. For fifteen minutes, the dog hacked and shouted and for fifteen minutes I placidly waited, making short sweeping motions with my stick when he thundered too close. Finally, two more men walked up behind me. I wished them a good morning in Spanish and the three of us were able to walk past, the dog finally relenting, though it tried several times to nip at our heels on the way back down the hill.
Wandering San Marcos
I finally arrived in San Marcos and simply relaxed for the rest of the day. San Marcos is sort of a hippie heaven. The main shops around the docking area are covered in hanging plants and filled with restaurants offering veggie options. Entire walls vanish under printed signs which offer meditation classes, yoga courses, massage therapies, cacao ceremonies, emotion lessons and other such spiritually-enriching industries. Most people heading to Lake Atitlán for spiritual growth end up here. I found a relatively new coffee and breakfast shop called La Sala del Lago which was run by a Northern-Ireland archeologist. I spent most of my morning whittling away time talking about the sites I visited in Peru while he told me of his life in Guatamala. Apparently, foreigners have begun to move into the lake area in force, and many properties were being sold to expats building a new life for themselves in the country.
I spent additional time wandering the small city. Il Giardino is an extremely shady and pleasant restarant with power outlets available and decent Italian-inspired dishes. El Buho has some unique owl artwork and is a secondary location for shade and vegetarian meals. Circles Café and Bakery makes truly splendid cookies. I’m grateful that I live somewhat faraway from them, lest I renew a persistent cookie addiction. The Moonfish Café is in an odd direction, but serves suprisingly excellent coffee.
Once finished eating, I continued my explorations to Cerro Tzankujil Nature Reserve. Tucked behind a very tiny beach, this area costs 20 Quetzal to enter. There are long dirt trails leading around the slight penninsula, revealing many wonderful viewing platforms. The most famous of these platforms is Trampolin, a wooden deck which juts over the water. Numerous young people fling themselves into the lake waters below and then spend additional time tanning themselves on the slightly rounded grey boulders at the base.
San Pedro La Laguna
On another day, I made sure to visit San Pedro La Laguna. While San Marcos has a certain laid-back vibe, San Pedro is the largest and most chaotic destination on the lake. Famous as a launching point for party cruises, which are large-deck pink-and-white ferries, the city is a tall jumble of shops, hotels and somewhat subpar restaurants. I walked around the city for a while to get a feel for it, but ultimately decided to check out other areas. The other great point of fame for San Pedro is the trails leading away from it. San Pedro is the major access point to Volcan San Pedro Trailhead, one of the tallest and most rigerous mountain hikes around Lake Atitlan.
I did a portion of this trail but without water or a backpack, I wasn’t well-equipped to hike the whole thing. Instead, I returned to the city and struck out an even stranger direction, towards Cancha Xetiaqapek. Though the name of this park simply refers to a basketball court, there are also a number of hard-packed dirt trails directly past it which make up the majority of the Volcan San Pedro lowland hiking trails. I wandered along these for hours, finding lots of quiet pieces of dry forests and excellent hidden beaches with almost nobody else around. The water within the Lake is always somewhat chilly, but clear days usually have a bright enough sun to offset that.
The only other things I distinctly enjoyed in San Pedro were the thermal baths (which are more like massage studios than simple natural hot springs) and the Tzunun’ Ya’ Museum of Mayan Culture. This tiny, brightly painted building displays the geological creation of Lake Atitlan alongside the traditional way-of-life for the Mayan people who call it home. Best of all, the man at the front desk (Pedro) was extremely informative about Mayan religion and culture. He marked out several spots in the surrounding countryside where I could check out Mayan ruins and also a place within the lake, where a Mayan city had once lounged.
As I may have mentioned before, large amounts of information on points of interest around Lake Atitlán are somewhat difficult to find, so I imagine I’ll need to take many more trips before I wheedle out all of the secrets.
However, I have time. I was so ill in Rio that I rarely worked and now, with my health back, I have the opportunity to play an extremely robust game of catchup. I’ll be staying here for at least another few weeks.
So until then,
Best regards and excellent trails,
Old Sean
Written February 10th 2022
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Ten years ago, I abandoned my military surplus store backpack for a Farpoint 40 Osprey Travel Pack. I’ve never replaced my bag since. Two years ago, I bought two more Osprey Backpacks for my younger siblings on their first tour outside the country. I have nothing but praise for Osprey Products.
