Lago

I couldn't see, I couldn't breathe, and I had no idea where I was stepping. Last Saturday, I went "behind," more like "underneath" a waterfall in Lago de Yojoa, and it was an adventure like no other.

After a day at a tranquil little hotel by the lake, the other teachers and I made the drive to Pulhapanzak to see the infamous waterfall and ziplining area. Several Honduran families were enjoying a Sunday afternoon at the park there, and I saw some strange looks from them as they watched this bus full of gringos unload and go trekking down the cliff-side path to see the waterfall.

The waterfall was magnificent, roaring over the rocks, in a continual downpour. And the returning teachers pointed out where the waterfall tour would begin. "By those rocks down there, and then you go into some caves." Cool, I thought. I don't often do crazy things, with the exception of choosing to move to Honduras for 2 years, and the waterfall tour seemed reasonable enough, with several people emerging from the falls unscathed. So, I convinced myself to go, along with 10 other teachers who decided to brave the tour.

The path curved along nicely down the cliff, then we had to climb over some boulders to get to a large pool of water we had to swim across to get to the tour entrance. That was the point that if you wanted to back out, you could turn around and head back. I looked at the other first-year teachers and saw determination, even if it was the "what have I gotten myself into" kind, in their eyes, and again, pushed myself to continue on.

It was not long before I was soaking wet, standing alongside the others, dripping buckets and squinting into the white mist ahead. I followed the most-experienced waterfall explorer, aside from our Honduran guide, and pressed on toward the next rock. As we neared the falls, the volume increased. The water pounded all around us, making it difficult to hear, and the mist/spray obscured our vision. Everytime I snuck a peek at our location, the swirling white around us made me think we were inside a blizzard. Stepping down, we blindly felt about until we caught each other's hands and then held on for dear life as we made our way across the slippery rocks and into the river. What I thought was going to be a little jaunt through a thin wall of water and into a cave, turned into a torrential threat, which only prayer, adrenaline, and the leading of others carried me through.

You had to keep your head down, and I could only open my eyes at specific intervals where the water stemmed. I took a big gasp of air before I went under, but there were a few times that I realized I couldn't breathe, which fortunately didn't last long. Deprived of my usual senses, I had to completely rely on the person in front of me to guide me where to go and help me find shelter.

Finally, after these initial frightening moments, we reached a rock crevice where we could pause, catch our breath (literally), and stare at each other in utter shock that we underwent such an experience. A little ways past the resting point, the guide told us to crawl up into a cave. I was pretty sure I wouldn't fit, but when I got up there, about 10 of us fit into the space. It was pitch black, and the girls and I tried to comfort and encourage each other, while the guys were outside in the center of the waterfall celebrating the thrill of it all.

The trek back was cake compared to the way there. In fact, there was one section of the walk, where it felt like a light rain, and I thought I could stay there and swim for the afternoon. On the way back, I also jumped off a large boulder into the water, which previously, would have been pretty daring for me, but then, again, we did just walk through a waterfall.

Up the trail and through the gate, we emerged a little shaken, but victorious nonetheless. Some of us would return and do it again in a heartbeat, and some of us are still saying, "never again in our lives." All I'll say is, it was definitely an experience to remember!

The "After" Shot