Hot hot hot!

Sunday began with yoga, moved into an adventure and ended in cocktails, via enormous ice creams... how lucky are we?!

Rumours of hot springs got us to the bus stop with friend Paco at the crack of 10.30, just in time to await the 11 o’clock bus to the hot springs, which may or may not exist... we shall never know, having believed the 11.10 bus people who took us as a special favour at a special rate on the outstanding hour or so’s journey up and up and up through the mountains beyond Copan to the Jaguar Resort spa... ah I hadn’t realised it was POSH!

Well it doesn’t have to be! A bit shocked to discover it was big quids for the lush forest spa, or mini Ps for the big paddling pools? small dunking pools? set in two concrete holes, we decided to think for a while and investigate....

Oh JOY! Unable to get through a locked gate to a wooden river bridge (to the posh bit... they’re no fools!), we investigated the river bed and were immediately struck by the clouds of steam coming off a nearby waterfall...could it be? YES it sure as heck WAS!

A scaldingly hot waterfall gushing into the shallow cold river and guided around by boulders and stones among natural cold pools, was our HOME for the next 3 hours or more. Bill and Paco as immovable as lizards basking in the heat, even as hunger called. Lucky for them I cannot stay still for so long and totally took to the concentration and natural reflexology treatment of walking barefoot across the stony river bed, hunting for prey, tickling fish and scaling the heights of coconut trees for their lunch (oh OK... I popped across to get the peach juice and picnic we’d brought). I saw the inner struggle betrayed in their faces as they balanced hunger against the recent arrival of a large group and their sheer dogged determination NOT to lose their prime places in the pool of perfection.

Getting home was a hoot. Following our Rough Guide’s once again dodgy advice, we were on the road to hitch a ride back to town no later than 3.30 (just as rather a lot of people were arriving... did we misunderstand?). Was he drunk or just very very old and possibly not too well? A guy passed us, muttered and waved. Within 10 minutes a perky gaucho with the look of a man who knows he can’t lose approached us asking, ‘what will you give me to take you back to Copan?’ Turns out he had his own sense of what we SHOULD give him and we were not in a strong position for negotiations! WHAT A FANASTIC RIDE!!!!! That along with some of the boat rides we did around Caye Caulker contribute to all time favourite days. In the back of dodgy red pickup, driven at Formula One speeds down and down and down and round and round and round the mostly existent (if wholly unpaved) mountain roads, never feeling unsafe and always courteously slowing for river crossings or unavoidable big holes. I had so much FUN! Looked as happy as the scrofulous dog we saw tearing into a used nappy from the bin the other night (she’s sadly not long for this world, I believe).

All this after a slow start, as plans were laid, deals were cut, notes changed hands and a party was set up with drop offs and pick ups carefully scheduled. Clearly the deal was: get these tourists into Copan ASA(bloody)P, LOAD the truck with booze from the proceeds, come back as fast as the hills will allow and the whole village can be drinking by 7. Everyone we passed got a toot and a wink and gave a knowing wave back and didn’t it just work out well for all parties involved!

(With possibly one exception... when the guy approached us about a lift, he was carrying a bag of vegetables and a cake. It came all the way to Copan with us and God only knows if it ever arrived back at his house. I imagine his Senora upon his return... ’I ask you to do just one simple job....’)