My bedroom at my family's house in Virginia.
The car with my Dad near my hometown.
Avid room #2 at WLWT in Cincinnati.
The parking lot of Semuc Champey in Guatemala.

Rinat got out of the front seat of the pickup where she'd been riding with the driver and said "Did you hear about the space ship?" I guess now I add this amazing, remote spot to the list of the unforgettable times and places where I heard of Challenger, the Gulf War, September 11th and now, the destruction of Columbia.

It had taken us two days in some exhilarating modes of transportation to reach Lanquin, a village in the middle of nowhere which is near some interesting caves and the waterfalls / natural bridge of Semuc Champey. From

The Road to Nowhere

Livingston, site of my last entry, we took a boat and series of buses to reach El Estor, a small town on lake Izabal. Not much to speak of, but I did meet some fellow Virginians there. On some kind of church thing.

"It was obvious we'd stumbled off the gringo trail."
In El Estor the journey became quite fun. We wanted to go directly to Lanquin, rather than take a long out-of-our-way route that's recommended. The locals told us it couldn't be done. They underestimated our resolve. Finally we located the pickup truck that loads dozens of people in the back and tears off for Panzos, the first small town along the way. It would take a series of these pickups to carry us to Lanquin, but we passed through some of the most astounding, remote landscapes I've ever seen. The road was single-lane dirt and little gravel if we were lucky. It wound up and down immense mountains, through tiny villages that seem to be at the end of the earth. Kids would run up beside the truck and point and say "Gringos!" It was obvious we'd stumbled off the gringo trail.

At one point we got off one truck and had to wait about an hour for another at a crossroads on top of a mountain. No village. No houses. Just mountainside plunging

Our Mode of Transport

off on both sides. Amazing. And the people were so happy and helpful. This is how they travel all the time, but they still have a good time... laughing as passengers get bounced around or nearly fall off the back. When it began raining heavily a tarp was produced and about a dozen of us huddled under it in the front of the truck bed. We stayed mostly dry.

The last leg of our trip to Lanquin was something of a stroke of luck. We reached a town called Cahabon, but there were no more trucks leaving until the next day. But before we even had time to get worried a guy asked us where we were going and offered to take us in his truck since he was going the same way. But he had a price. He demanded of us five quetzals. Each. About seventy or eighty US cents.

"He made me miss my buddy."
El Retiro became our home in Lanquin. It's kind of a miniature version of Finca Ixobel, mentioned earlier. A working farm, it's a small budget backpacker

Isn't He Adorable?

resort... of sorts. The only locals to be found are working there, but it's was a nice break from the physically punishing ride to get there. There was also a beautiful chocolate Labrador that reminded me sooo much of my dog Nielsen. I can't remember his name, but he made me miss my buddy. He seriously looked exactly like Nielsen... only with brown hair.

After one day at the caves of Lanquin, which were quite large and well-lighted... we took a pickup to Semuc Champey. It's reputed to be the largest natural bridge in the world and has a wide, beautiful series of waterfalls. If, however, you're expecting something like Virginia's natural bridge... this will be a disappointment. It just looks like a big waterfall. The fact that some of the water goes under makes it a bridge, but it doesn't resemble one at all.

"An exciting and quite dangerous tour."
The beauty of the place more than compensates for the lack of bridge-like structures. Manuel our guide took us on an exciting and quite dangerous tour down over the biggest of the falls. This would have been completely illegal at home. This cascade tumbled about fifty feet or more over two separate precipices. Manuel tied a rope to a large rock with a somewhat sketchy knot. He then threw it over the falls and invited us to climb down. With nothing better to do, we did. One false step would have sent me bouncing down the rock face... but everyone made it. But the bottom of the rope was not much safer. We were

Rush Hour on the way to Coban

standing on this narrow, slippery rock outcropping on a sheer dropoff to the torrents of water another thirty or so feet below. A great experience, as long as you survive.

After a few days of chilling at El Retiro we hopped another truck for Coban, a fairly large but not-very-interesting city. This will likely be one of my last nights with Aaron and Rinat. Rinat's heading for Antigua for the last few weeks of her trip. I'm not sure what Aaron will do. He may come with me toward Lake Atitlan or may go with Rinat toward Antigua. We'll see. I'll be spending a week or so in either Lake Atitlan or Quetzaltenango for some Spanish lessons, so I should have much more regular internet access for the next few weeks. Expect a mondo photo update soon. I can't do it here because there are no CD drives, but soon.

And may I end with a somewhat syrupy thought about the space shuttle. I'm not really a space geek. I don't really understand or care to understand exactly what science is being done up there. I don't know any astronauts' names, nor do I dream of one day going into space myself.

But I am captured by the spirit that drives us to do stuff like that. The space program is rare evidence that there's hope for humanity after all. Something we do not for economic gain or conquest of territory. We do it just because it's who we are.

But what I didn't know is how closely the American space program is followed abroad. It appears to truly be regarded as something Americans do on behalf of all of us. The disaster over Texas filled the front pages of newspapers here for days. Spanish news networks provided live translations of NASA news conferences. Even in tragedy US space exploration was uniting the world.

To be sure, the same is true of European space programs... but for the moment, we're the only ones still regularly sending humans up there. And as America becomes less and less popular internationally, it is good to remember that it doesn't have to be that way. People don't hate us because we're powerful. Put to positive use, America's dominance is respected and even looked to for leadership.

The world mourned with us for days when we lost just one space shuttle crew who dared risk their lives on behalf of us all. Will the world still mourn when we lose many times that number in Iraq, for a purpose we're told is for the good of us all?