Have you ever wanted to explore like Indiana Jones? On our recent trip to Belize, Chuck and I had the opportunity to climb and swim through the “Actun Tunichil Muknal” sacrificial Maya cave. National Geographic has ranked this site as one of the ten most sacred caves in the world. So put on your hardhats with headlamps and come along!

With the discovery of 1,700 Maya artifacts located in this sacrificial cave, this ancient Maya site has become a focal point for archeologists and anthropologists since the early 90’s. The ‘newest artifacts’ have been carbon dated to be over 1,100 years old. Fourteen human skeletons had been found. Seven of these had been children who’d aged less than five years. It is believed that women and children had been the chosen sacrifices because they were considered to be “Zuhui,” pure and untainted. Solidified within the limestone, we would be able to see the Crystal Maiden, a full skeleton, and four intact skulls along with ancient pottery. I had been nervously excited for this trip where we would be traversing tunnels deep inside the Earth.

Getting There From Teakettle Village

“This ride will be like a massage.” Francisco, our guide, chuckled as we climbed into a van at Teakettle Village. We had bounced and wobbled alongside orchards and farms for thirty minutes. Then, the foliage thickened. Giant palm leaves, sixty feet high, swayed around us as we entered the rainforest.

Tapir Mountain Nature Preserve

“We’re in da Tapir Mountain Nature Preserve. Remember dere are no cameras allowed. And get ready to get wet.” Francisco said as he handed each of us a hardhat with a headlamp. “We’ll cross da river 3 times. Don’t worry, dere’s a rope dere.” (Spanish speakers don’t have the /th/ sound in their language.)

One young lady asked where the bathroom was located. “Oh. Dere’s a pit toilet over dere.” Francisco pointed to a tiny cement block structure. It appeared to be barely large enough for one stall. “But I tink you go over dere and use da trees.” He gestured to the surrounding foliage. Our group of eight scattered into the rainforest to answer Mother Nature’s call before our hike. Unlike the United States there wasn’t a gift shop or plumbing or soap. “Rustic” came to mind as the humidity swelled around us. Indiana Jones hadn’t used amenities either, I reminded myself.

“You should drink half your water now and den leave your bottle here by dis tree. When we get back you’ll be tirsty.” Francisco instructed. “It will be some hours.” His brow had raised. “First we hike forty minutes, den we climb trough the cave for a couple hours and den hike back.”

My eyes widened with doubt. Insecurity wrapped around me with a choking hold. Last week I had gotten my fourth set of knee injections. This recent series hadn’t brought the relief I’d experienced previously. I was concerned. Chuck had read my mind, “You’ll be fine.” He reassured. I wasn’t as positive.

I had immediately shared my worries with Francisco. “You’ll be my number one. Always stay right behind me.” Francisco had directed. He gave each team member a number. Then, as if we were on a school field trip, we lined up in order and were off through the forest.

Our Hike Through The Rainforest

Dappled sunlight had sparkled with the brilliance of emeralds as it threaded its way to the ground. The dense air clung to my skin. Enormous stalks, which had grown from the ground, waved a greeting to us, as we strode through the rainforest. In the distance I heard the repetitive rattle of cicadas and a variety of birds chirping, but near us the forest had fallen silent. The creatures’ had sensed our presence and kept quiet as we walked through their home.

Walking through the rainforest had been magical, in a humid sort of way. I felt like I was hiking through the pages of the story, “The Great Kapok Tree.” Reading this book to my elementary students had become an Earth Day tradition. Together we had created a vibrant bulletin board scene of this tale. Witnessing the story come to life around me had kept my attention away from worrying about my aching knees, hips and fused spine.

Each time we crossed the river, I dunked myself fully to my neck in an attempt to cool off. This physical activity in the heat had proven to be straining for me. How was I going to make it?
I had wondered silently as I kept in step with our guide.

Maya Culture and Beliefs

Francisco would stop often and sketch in the dirt to explain the Maya beliefs. “It’s Maya, not Mayan.” He had stated matter-of-factly.

Their framework of beliefs had been based in cycles of nature: days, seasons and years. A vast collection of gods had been regularly honored with sacrifices.

The primary diet of the Maya people had been maize, squash and beans known as “the three sisters.”

The Maya culture had complex building structures and an organized society. On the Yucatan peninsula there have been 417 interconnected Maya cities discovered along with 964 smaller settlements.

Within their beliefs there were thirteen layers of heaven arranged above the Earth. The home of the living, Earth, rested on the back of a huge reptilian monster. Then, there were nine layers in the underworld.

The Cave Entrance – A Portal

A bubbling brook had chattered ahead announcing the entrance to the Actun Tunichil Muknal sacrificial cave, which means “The Cave of the Stone Sepulchre” also referred to as ‘The A.T.M.’ The Maya had believed this had been a portal to the underworld, “Xibalba” meaning ‘a place of fear.’

With a feeling of reverence, we quietly slipped into the turquoise water and swam through the portal. I tried to imagine how the Maya would have felt coming into this darkness knowing they would be sacrificing a person to Chaac, the god of rain, while holding hope to end their long lasting drought. The gods of agriculture and fertility were known to have existed in the underworld, too.

Swimming in the cool fresh water had invigorated my energy. The humidity had disappeared as the darkness swallowed our group. “Headlamps on.” Francisco quietly instructed.

Navigating The Cave

The Actun Tunichil Muknal cave had been unlike anything I’d ever seen before. Limestone laced water had created elegant artwork over the span of thousands of years. This eerie elegance has been witness to human activity for many millennia. “If these walls could talk” came to mind. “Oh the tales they’d tell.”

Wading, swimming and climbing through this enchanted terra had been easier with Francisco pointing out the exact foot placements and handholds. He knew every nook and crevasse of this underground passage.

As we made our way through crystalized stalactites and stalagmites, I could see how the ancient people had believed this passage had been a mystical portal to the underworld.

How long had Francisco been giving tours? I asked. “Many, many years!” he smiled. “Over twenty. And dere’re not training new guides.” I wondered if the government will be closing this site to the public. We were so fortunate to have this opportunity!

Another group passed us. Francisco had nodded knowingly and waved, “Dat’s my brodder, Jose.” Each guide had received the same greeting from Francisco, “My brodder!” he’d raise his eyes with a smile. These two dozen cave conductors have shared a brotherly bond woven together over decades.

When we reached a rocky ledge, Francisco had us gather in a circle and turn off our lights. Complete darkness fell around us. Droplets of water echoed through the vast cavern. It is an “excellent feeling of darkness and solitude.” Elisa Cambranes, another guide, had stated when interviewed.

The Cathedral

We proceeded over the rocky terrain, swimming through deeper water and wading in the shallow areas. This adventure mirrored Indian Jones’ completely! “We only wear socks in the Cathedral.” This protects the sacred area from skin oils. Francisco removed his shoes and gestured to the rocky sand. Our group members removed their footwear. I panicked as I (a teacher) hadn’t followed directions. “I didn’t wear socks, only my swim shoes.” I whispered nervously to Francisco. Would I have to stay below and wait? “Den you go barefoot.”

Chuck immediately removed his wet socks and offered them to me. “No thanks. I’ll be fine.” Chuck tucked his soaking socks into his shoes. “I’ll go barefoot, too.”

Hushed voices came from above us. Another group had been quietly putting on their shoes, which they’d left along a ridge one story high. They were preparing to climb down a forty foot boulder towering near us. Only a knotted rope hung from somewhere in the dark to be used as a handhold. It was then that I realized we would be climbing UP this slippery rockface to enter the “Cathedral.” (In the U.S. there would have been guard rails along a stairway with signs “Climb at your own risk.”)

Francisco instructed the other group’s descent. One after another each had clung carefully to the slippery rock face. I took note of where each had placed their feet and how to hold the rope. Once the entire group had cleared, Francisco nodded to me, his “number one.” I breathed in courage as Francisco gave clear directions for my ascent.

After achieving the climb I moved my head so my headlamp could provide a view of the Cathedral also known as the Stelae Chamber. This expanse spread out larger than a football field. Its rocky ceiling hung forty feet above our heads. I caught a moment of claustrophobia, but I took a deep breath and reminded myself that this has been the same for thousands of years. “It won’t collapse today.” I told myself silently and tested the air again. As I waited for the others to climb I gave myself a pep talk. ‘This would be a true peek into the past. It was an honor to be a witness to this sacred place.’ I channeled my inner ‘Indiana Jones’ and followed Francisco. “Only walk on da snaky lines on da ground.” He instructed.
“Wait! Snakes?” I repeated with a hoarse whisper, then realized he’d referred to the lines along the floor.

Embroidered Tales

Enveloped in darkness with only our headlamp’s narrow beam we listened to Francisco’s embroidered tales shared in hushed tones. Droplets of water had punctuated his stories. “Dey did body modification. Dey made baby’s foreheads flat. We believe dey had tied boards to their skulls.” This practice seemed so barbaric to me. “Well,” Francisco continued, “We still do body modifications today: tattoos, piercings, eyebrows, cosmetic surgery, dying hair, fingernails.” Francisco wiggled his digits with a shake of his head. I couldn’t help but nod, ‘He’s right. Culture drives fashion.’

“Dese pots were found as they are here today in groups of 3.” Francisco explained how each pot faced a different direction in order to capture the spirits. Anthropologists believe that this area had been a “waiting room” where sacrificial individuals would be tied up and bled for the gods’ approval. The actual deaths had taken place further inside the cave. ‘What an unusual custom!’ I silently surmised.

“Take a seat.” Francisco gestured to a rocky ‘bench.’ Each of us took a turn sitting on the smoothed rock and stretching our necks upward to a stone formation which looked like an old woman. “You see.” Francisco explained how the Maya had sat on this rock ‘bench’ and were believed to have eaten or anally absorbed hallucinogenic mushrooms that contained mescaline, psilocybin and lysergic acid amide. These natural drugs had brought the individual to a new level of understanding. Today some shamans still use some of these natural plants during ceremonies.

Human Skulls

We stepped gingerly around the roped lines lying on the ground which had been placed to protect remnants of a time millenniums ago. These trivial demarcations hadn’t seemed sufficient against breakage of the artifacts. I appreciated this authentic view knowing how guarded historical sites are in many other countries. Francisco had mentioned, “Someone dropped der camera on a skull, cracking it. So now no cameras allowed.”

An eeriness washed over me as we viewed an infant’s flattened skull. “You can see how the board had pushed the front of the skull.” Francisco had pointed out in a whispered tone as our group circled this ancient artifact.

With only the gritty sounds of our steps, we moved toward the back of the Cathedral. A metal ladder had been secured into the rocky face. We ascended into the Sepulchre , a small rocky inlet, where the Crystal Maiden skeleton has laid for 1,200 years. Solidified from dripping limestone, she (or maybe he) has rested here over a thousand years. It is believed that this person had aged 17 years.

As I stood over this body splayed before me, it’s bones sparkling from crystalized limestone, my mind raced. With the jaw gaping in a frozen scream I wondered, ‘Had her/his sacrifice been an honor or had she/he hollered in pain?’ Suddenly, my eyes had started to pool.

Pulling from my own framework of beliefs, I silently offered up my own prayer as I attempted to stretch my understanding into a culture that had lived so long ago.

Many believe that The Crystal Maiden had her limbs placed in a dancing posture illuminating celebration. For the Maya, making sacrifices had been tradition for generations which had been seen as their “modern days” and “normal customs.” The Maya had wanted to please their gods and bring nourishing rain upon their land.

As I write this I wonder what I would have done if I’d grown up in the Maya framework of beliefs. I can’t imagine taking another’s life, but if that’s all I knew, would I have acted differently than I would today?

I also ponder what future generations will think of us. At 55 years old I am only two generations away from being ‘history’ in the eyes of those on Earth. What will they surmise of our civilization and customs in the years to come? I plan to continue connecting with others, learning all I can and making the most of each day as the sand in my personal hour glass continues to sift downward.

Our Return Journey

Our journey back through the cave had been quiet as we all contemplated our glimpse into Maya life long ago. The moment we left the cave, the humidity clung to us like baby monkeys holding onto their mothers. We marched silently through the rainforest, crossing the river three times until we finally spied our water bottles waiting patiently for our return. “It’s just a short hike to the van.” Francisco bounced cheerfully. His energy had been impressive! “You can change into dry clothes and we have a meal prepared for you.”

Near the van there was a bathhouse and a “Welcome” sign that I hadn’t noticed at our arrival. Our van driver had a chicken dish prepared on a picnic table for our group. Water was available in a cooler. I drank a full bottle right away and another with my meal.

This excursion has left me with so much to ponder! Thank you, Francisco, for your expertise, enthusiasm, patience and emailing your photos to me!

I encourage you to work through your worries and explore new places, reaching beyond your comfort zone. My pink cheeks are proof that anyone can attempt unusual capers. Stay curious!

Related Links:

The Great Kapok Tree by Lynne Cherry is available on Amazon

“Life in Belize” Restless Viking article

“Swimming with Sharks” Restless Viking article

Cayo Adventure Tours “ATM Tour” 2012 YouTube video

Resources:

Francisco Reymundo

“Belizing” website – Kim Benedict photo

High Point Travel ATM Cave

Maya Walk Tours website

Lee Beavington’s blog

Belize Karst Habitat Conservation Facebook page