“There is one thing I forgot to tell you.”, said Clive, our snorkeling guide and boat captain. He is standing on the deck with the poise of a ballet dancer and the nonchalance of a confirmed drunkard, driving the boat with one hand, the other clutching a bottle of beer. Bare feet emerging from a bright pair of shorts orange shorts and a white stripped golf t-shirt, he is built like an athlete. The carefully tied bandanna goes well with the bronze of his skin – the kind of bronze that you earn by being outdoor a lot in tropical conditions.
“Now, let’s switch off all the lights now”, Melanie said in a matter-of-fact tone.
One by one the headlights were turned off. Hesitating, I followed suit. The enormous chamber we were in was thrown into the deepest darkness I have ever known. There was not a spec of light to be seen anywhere. Lying semi supine in a 30 feet deep pool of water - armpits and back of the knees wrapped around a black rubber tube and butts dipped in water, it was like being suspended in limitless dark vacuum, like an astronaut taking a spacewalk. We were wearing the standard issue orange Mae Vests but at that moment it did not seem like protection at all. I felt like I needed a parachute, an AK47, a bowie knife and a Doberman Pincher. A cold drop of water splashed on my bald head. Before my mind started playing games with me, I hurriedly reached out to the lamp clamped to my forehead – miner style, fumbled for a couple of seconds and switched it on. Dust particles crisscrossing it, the weak ray of light barely reached the roof looked and still managed to look like a life line.
Ducking through trees and stepping through ancient Mayan ruins along the tiny pathway crisscrossed by gigantic root systems, we came across a clearing.
“There it is,” our guide Sanchez said, spitting out a huge blob of crushed tobacco besides him, “That’s the high temple.”
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