Over the Christmas holidays, my daughter and adult grandson joined me for a two- week vacation in Guatemala. A key part of our adventure included a 2-day tour of the ancient Maya ruins at Tikal National Park. Our tickets included an all-day guided tour of the ruins on the first day of our stay. We even got talked into paying for an additional “Sunrise Tour” on the second day. That would involve getting up at 4:00 a.m. and hiking a mile and a half to the site’s highest temple and climbing to the top so we could to watch the sunrise over the ancient ruins. It was described as being a “once-in-a-lifetime experience.”
When we started our daytime tour, the guide gave us some sage advice. He mentioned that the jungle paths were muddy and full of tree roots. He said that if we saw a tree root move, don’t step on it. There are two species of poisonous snakes in the park. He called them the “two-step snake, and the five-step snake,” because that’s how far you would get if they bit you.
It suddenly dawned on me that on tomorrow’s Sunrise Tour we would be hiking down those muddy jungle paths in total darkness, when snakes are most active. The concept of “once-in-a-lifetime” took on a whole new meaning.
Our guide confirmed that our daytime tour covered the same territory we would walk through the next day for our Sunrise Tour. We would even have the opportunity to climb to the top of that same temple today. When we eventually reached the highest temple, I was relieved to see that the pyramid now had a modern wooden stairway built alongside to get us safely to the top. Vegetation obscured the view of how high the stairway was. But I figured I might as well climb it now in broad daylight so I’ll know if I can make it tomorrow in total darkness. My 32-year-old grandson led the way, taking the steps two at a time. My daughter, who had been a state champion gymnast in her youth, quickly followed him.
I was never a physical fitness buff. I never joined a health club. Never took up jogging. The exercycle my wife bought me a decade ago has been mostly used as a clothing rack. But onward and upward I trudged — step after step, flight after flight. It was like the M.C. Escher painting of stairways that go on forever. None of the people descending gave any indication that I was getting close to the top. Nobody said a word of encouragement, or gave a hand signal that it was just a little bit further. In fact, most of them seemed surprised to see an old codger like me climbing that stairway at all.
Years ago, Swiss author Erich von Däniken wrote a book called “Chariots of the Gods.” In it, he claimed that space extraterrestrials must have helped the ancient Mayas and Incas by levitating the huge stones with which they built their pyramids. I was never convinced. Wouldn’t you think if “ET” bothered to build them a pyramid, he would at least have included an elevator to get them to the top?
Finally, I reached the top. The view would have been breathtaking, if I had any breath left to take. Actually, the view of the entire Tikal site was spectacular. Don’t take my word for it. Ask movie maker George Lucas. He used an aerial flyover of the Tikal ruins for a scene in the original Star Wars movie. It was supposed to be the Rebel base “Yavin 4.” When I mentioned that to my grandson, he didn’t seem impressed. It turns out; he’d never seen Star Wars. It came out 15 years before he was born.
It was amazing to be on top of the temple where only kings and priests were allowed. It was on this platform they would cut out the beating hearts of captive enemies to thank the gods for their victories. If that wasn’t bad enough, my guidebook said there was another peculiar bloodletting sacrifice. When the king prayed for rain or a good harvest, he had to pierce his own genitals with a stingray spine. Sometimes having royal blood isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.
While we were enjoying the view, I asked our guide how high this temple actually was. He said 70 meters. It took me awhile to do the math, but that is 230 feet, which is the equivalent of a 23-story building. I would never have started up the damned stairs if I’d known I’d be climbing the equivalent of a 23-story building. And I sure as hell didn’t want to do it again in the dark the next morning. I needed an “out.”
I knew my daughter and grandson had their hearts set on watching the sunrise. I didn’t want to rain on their parade. But I definitely wanted to rain on mine. If it were raining tomorrow morning, there would be no sunrise to see and the tour would be cancelled. I decided as long as I was up here on this sacred temple where generations of Maya kings prayed for rain, I would do the same. Not having brought along any stingray spines, I decided a couple of “Our Fathers” and “Hail Marys” would have to do the job.
And sure enough, at 3:30 the next morning when my alarm clock went off, I could hear a heavy rainfall on the metal roof of my hotel room. Problem solved. I felt a little sorry for my daughter and grandson. But if they wanted to see what they’d missed, they could always watch the Tikal scene from Star Wars on YouTube.
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Nice post Larry – I was listening to Nina Simone’s version of Mr. Bojangles and thought of you. Hope you still play and I am grateful to see you are enjoying yourself.