5 of 84

Write now Article Tools

Boat Boy is impatient. I can't decide whether this is my stop. He's already pushing off from the dock, so I jump. No one pays me any attention as I walk the path into the village. But I can't find the hostel. Not a single sign and the locals can't help.

I keep walking and the scattering of people begin to peter out. The path narrows and the last faces disappear. When I open my map to check, it comes to me... the boat ride was too short. Tracing the paper, I calculate the distance: no, not Santa Cruz. But the map suggests a connecting route and it's not more than a few kilometers away - I'll walk.

Switchbacks and near 30-degree inclines make it harder than expected with all my gear. It is just stunning though; the views across the volcanic crater. Lake Atitlan, Guatemala: beautiful. Pausing to catch my breath at yet another turn in the mountain path and it takes longer to recover this time - the air is thin. Resting there I sense something... Eyes. Two faces are watching me from above. Kids? When I swing round to face them they disappear.

The path becomes a track clinging to the hillside. It meanders through a cornfield, and when I reach a bluff I stop again to rest. It's isolated here. After taking a photo, I sense someone coming up the path from the other way. I put the camera away and wait for him to pass.

He stops. Worn clothes, a harsh but young face. A hungry face. He stands there looking as though he's deciding what to do,

"Where are you going?"

I indicate a direction without stating a specific destination. His English is better than my Spanish, but it's not an inability to communicate that keeps me quiet. He sneers and looks me up and down,

"There's two people waiting for you."

I'm not meeting any travel friends.

"Excuse me?"

"There's two people waiting for you, up ahead," an unfriendly smile.

"Up ahead on the path?"

"In the cornfields - ladron," the smile remains.

My Spanish fails me, "Ladron?"

"Ladron... two. Two men. They are watching you."

"Hmmmm. O.K., thank you."

It is a short exchange; I want him to keep moving. But he pauses, thinking. Gives me a final up-and-down and curling his lip, he saunters off. I get the gist, but want to be sure: out with the dictionary.... Ladron: 1. Thieving; 2. Thief.

Quickly shoving my camera into the middle of my pack - one eye on the cornfields - I hide money and cards and get a small amount of decoy cash ready. And the mace. The question now... is he lying (and laying a trap) or is he telling the truth? Do I continue and risk two unseen thieves lying in wait, or turn around and risk someone possibly expecting my retreat? I remember the faces I had seen earlier on the path. Turn around: better the devil you know, and the path you've already walked. It is a quick trip down to the boat dock and the last boat of the day.

Safely in Santa Cruz that evening, the hostel staff assure me that,

"Most of the time the path is just fine - except for when it's not."

Learn more about this author, Danielle Dames.
Click here to send this author comments or questions.

Add your voice

Know something about Travel experiences: Off the beaten path?
We want to hear your view. Write now!