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The Lost Valley of the Mayans (Belize) 
By Leslie Kearns


Jolting and jostling us, our jeep careened wildly toward the majestic looming Maya Mountains. A backdrop of brilliant azure sky and emerald rainforests framed vast orchards and sea green valleys.

Our destination, the village of Progresso glowed with evidence of loving care. Immaculately kept small wood houses sat demurely, their yards thriving with a brilliance of assorted tropical flowers. Entrenched dirt footpaths wound through trim green lawns leading to front entrances with open doors. Chickens roamed freely and dark eyed children stopped their playing to giggle and point shyly at the visiting gringos.

At our guide’s house, everyone piled out, wobbling slightly from the shaky journey. We donned our backpacks and headed out.

The guide talked about the trees we passed. Ironwood, Sangre, Silion, Cedar, Prickly Yellow, Ramon, and Sapodilla stretched into the sky above. "The hardwoods, are used as building material, the others for medicine and salves…"

His voice faded as I became fully absorbed in the beauty of emerald green leaves back-lit and sparkling with dappled sunlight. Vines suspended from gargantuan trees, snaking around trunks, choking them in a symbiotic embrace, then stretching downward, implanting themselves into the rough fertile ground.

The trail narrowed, then disappeared into the ever propagating forest flora. After breaking through the congested chaparral with a machete we were still faced with a tangle of impenetrable vines barring our way like an iron prison. The roots of a giant Cedar wrapped around the rock face like a boa enfolding it’s prey. We turned back and tried another route. This path gave way to rockier terrain. We navigated through large stone crevices where massive roots, some as thick as telephone poles tumbled over the rocks. For a few heart-stopping moments our path consisted of a 3 ft wide ledge of jagged treacherous rock plunging deeply at each side. Vines grabbed at our legs, as we dropped into deep holes, then emerged up jagged rock steps using roots and vines for leverage.

In the first cave a small brown bat stood an up-side-down sentry over the contents of the fissure. A large Mayan pot almost completely intact, and varied sizes of pottery fragments littered the ground.

We continued on through vines, jungle flowers and rock face. Birds chirped and sang to each other, lulling me into a perception of peace and security. My assessment of this jungle paradise was abruptly shattered. A narrow sinkhole was the route to the cave below. My guide climbed down with reckless abandon and I followed cautiously. Slowly inching my way into the hole feeling blindly for footholds, I held my breath in near panic. There seemed to be nothing but air and flat rock wall beneath me. The tunnel changed direction and I turned around and eased towards the opposite side for the final descent. I looked back up toward the opening. There was no going back. Step by careful step I squeezed through the gap. At last, with both feet firmly back on the ground I remembered to breathe. The rest of the group were already there, cheering and applauding my efforts! I was then laughingly informed of the ’easy’ route that did not include the adventure of squeezing though a 50 ft wormhole! I'd asked for the less explored route and my feisty guide had been happy to accommodate.

Just for fun, our guide took hold of some vines and scrambled a hundred feet up the cliff like a howler monkey. Two minutes later, clinging to the trunk of a tree and grinning from ear to ear, he slid back down to where we waited.

This cave produced more pottery pieces left exactly as they were found creating a natural museum on the floor of the cavern. Cave spiders the size of starfish clung to the clay walls of the grotto.

Next stop, lunch. Our food was prepared on a fire hearth built in the traditional Mayan style. Rocks were stacked to about waist height, then clay molded on top into two large horseshoe shapes where firewood was placed. We dug into a scrumptious meal of fresh sautéed vegetables, boiled chia - spinach-like but more flavorful, chicken, rice and pita. The entire meal including the bread, rolled, flattened, fried and served hot, was created from ingredients produced right in the village.

Content and full we set off again. Along the path a small cliff formed a life-like dinosaur, appearing to gaze back at us. Thankfully a herbivore.

Crossing a field of carrots, cabbage, beans and corn flourishing on the valley floor, we again entered the bush. A large rock face loomed over us. Agonized stone faces cried out in silent anguish. Bracing ourselves, we walked quickly past to the entrance to the mammoth cave beyond.

Crawling like crabs we wedged through the small gap. Mud sucked at our boots and clung like cement anchors. Sliding in the slippery goop, our clothes were soon caked in mud. We picked our way along the slick rocky floor and emerged into the inky vastness of the huge pit. At the next chamber our jaws dropped in awe. Glistening formations flowed from the roof like massive velvet curtains, a platform with sculptured statues floated in mid air, crystal alters shimmered and a musical stone tinkled and echoed eerily though-out the cathedral.

We climbed up rocks and around rivulets of flowing water. The echo of dripping water added to the atmosphere of eerie blackness. A single resonating “duwoip” sound, a pause, and then another when the built up water could no longer cling to the stalagmite.

Here, evidence of ancient Mayan life became apparent. Human remains suggested that ritual sacrifice had been performed. The floor of the cave was worn smooth, suggesting a river had run through here at one time. All thoughts of muddy clothes were forgotten as we pondered. “Are we walking over vast treasures? Could there be secret mysteries of an ancient Maya civilization just inches below our feet?”

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