Off to our left two trails head in the general direction of the mountains. One climbs steeply uphill while the other apparently follows the river. We pick the river branch as most logical and easiest, and for once beat Murphy's law. Immediately we are in a different world from the grazing lands behind us. Maybe not the heavy jungle of the Peten, near Tikal, but jungle nevertheless, and plenty of it.
Philodendrons grow parasitically up anything that is vertical and reach astounding heights.
There are many palms, some the typical coconut palms, but the grace and splendor of a fifteen foot high palm shaped like a Chinese fan, entrances us. We work our way across the face of the hill as the narrow path winds and climbs through rots, rocks and vines. I hear a nervous giggle from behind and something mumbled about poisonous snakes. They must always take the same trail for their miniature course is deeply worn and rutted. We begin to descend into an obvious gorge as the jungle thickens.