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Once I was waiting for the sun to rise up over the misty mountains
surrounding Lake Atitlan. I had heard the dawn would surprise
me with her beautiful scale of colours, from the lightest
yellow, nearly white like a diamond, to cream, yellow, beige,
oranges, all the reds you could ever imagine to the deepest
wine burgundy. As we await this splendour we see only black.
It is cold, we are weary and I think you too would ask yourself
why you just climbed up a volcano in the middle of the night.
I started my adventure with Alicia, my great friend and travelling
companion, around two in the morning from the village of
San Pedro De La Laguna (San Pedro by the lake). A location
that makes my heart ache when I recall the charm, beauty and
simplicity of the place.
The hardest part of the morning was getting up out of our
cosy bed with lots of blankets, because it had already got
cold in the night. This might be Central America but in the
highlands of Guatemala you can feel the chill night air.
We went downstairs, had a quick look in the mirror with our
sleepy eyes and tried to wake up a little by splashing ice-cold
water in our faces. We managed to have a little portion of
porridge, our standard breakfast since living here; poor on
luxury but quite enough for a happy breakfast. We silently
retrieved our walking boots and our biggest sweaters and then
we left our little house, saying goodbye to our three puppies,
they were so confused thinking it was already morning, and
then along the road to meet the others, all travellers we
had seen around town. We arrived to find them already waiting.
Everybody was tired but with every metre we marched we woke
up a fraction more. We all had torches as there was no such
thing as streetlights, especially not when you go a little
outside the village. Nowhere else existed, only the little
muddy street, the plants on the side of the road and the old
wooden huts, everything matching together.
Now we are walking out of the village and can see only a
few lonely houses, even poorer than the ones in the village.
I feel empty but it is a good feeling; I feel so present,
living now, here. My brain is free of worries; open for new
impressions, ideas and thoughts. Everything I see points to
a wonder that I am here. How did we find the way, the way
directly into paradise?
We reach the edge of the mountain and start climbing, now
totally surrounded by darkness. At least you could see the
stars that where lightening up the sky before. As we step
into the jungle the plants and flowers, their beauty yet unseen,
steal the last glimmer of the stars.
The small path is steep and slippery; it rained the night
before and yesterday all day. It takes us an hour and a half
to get up. The view is awesome but it is freezing cold here
on top of the world. You can see the whole volcano lake and
the stars reflecting in the silver water. Isolated in the
gloom, a few lights from one of the villages around the lake.
Silence. We can hear nothing, nothing but the voice of a singing
bird in the silent wind.
Here we are waiting. Waiting for the glorious colours of
the beginning of a new day. We are wrapped in a few blankets,
eating our bread, at ease but expectant. The sky in the east
gets a little brighter in the most amazing yellows and oranges,
slowly followed by the reds and after quite a while we finally
see the first arching beam of light. At this time the colour
of the sky is perfection. Not even the greatest artist could
mix the tone any better. It is perfect. We are astonished
looking at this daily act of nature - not able to say a word.
Everything was worth it.
Text © Jana Planz, all rights reserved |
Travel Writers: Lake Atitlan Sunrise By
Jana Planz
