Semuc Champey, Guatemala is sandwiched between sharp mountains proving their youth and you would never know it was there unless someone told you to look for it. Thankfully, someone did.
A downtown consists of caves lined with dozens of pools of clear water rushing over massive boulders that look like under- water skyscrapers.
The movement of the water forces the bright green moss that hugs the rocks to sway with rhythm, resembling the movement of traffic through a city. Rather than horns honking, laughter echoes through the valley as travelers use this moss as taxis to slide from one pool to another.
Some trek to greater heights hoping to witness the light dancing from mountain to mountain, while others wade through the waters of deep caves trusting the light of only a dim candle to lead them through.
We were hundreds of miles into the green mountains. Nature was at its purest, freshest and most relaxed. The truck rumbled along the winding dirt road for hours on end. We occasionally stop for photos, even though the entire ride was picturesque.
Our hostel nestled in the valley as mountains surrounded, 360 degrees. They reached for the sky the way a little boy would the cookie jar atop the fridge, on their tippy toes, extending with all their might.
In these same mountains were some of the world’s oldest caves. We followed our Chimpa guide on a hike to the depths of darkness, into that black hole of an abyss. Water dripped. Repeatedly. We were trusting a white wax candlestick to lead us deeper into the unknown excitement that nestled into those spooky sable caves.
Even the silence echoed an eerie whisper of wonder and mystery. My imagination began to run wild with the same fixation for fear that drew me here in the first place.