Excerpt from 'The Wonder Trail': Steve Hely's Captivating Journey to Lake Atitlán, Guatemala
Wonders of Guatemala
Guatemala boasts stunning beauty, including Pam’s remote mountainside cheese villages—which I haven’t seen myself but fully believe exist.

One world-class wonder I witnessed firsthand is Lake Atitlán (pictured above). Even explorer John L. Stephens was captivated, calling it “the most magnificent spectacle we ever saw,” with “fleecy clouds of vapour rising from the bottom, moving up the mountains and the sides of the volcanoes.”
I would have lingered to watch those clouds, but my bus raced down the mountains toward the shore. No matter—the rising vapors were still mesmerizing from the window.
Spanning 50 square miles, this silver lake is encircled by volcanoes and ringed by villages: Panajachel, Tzununá, San Pedro La Laguna, Santiago Atitlán, Santa Catarina Palopó.
These villages vary in hippie vibe, hostel appeal, and indigenous authenticity, but each day features traditional Kaqchikel Mayan women in woven dresses balancing chicken baskets on their heads alongside Israeli backpackers. Inspired by 8-bit RPGs, I treated the lake and its boat ferries as a quest, hopping villages fueled by coffee and hot chocolate. The skilled dock boys loaded, tied, and launched boats with impressive speed and rivalry—a show worth watching. Mid-crossing, a young woman with a guitar boarded, played songs after asking permission, and earned coins from the indifferent-yet-generous Mayan women.
At lunch in San Marcos La Laguna, amid trails to meditation lodges and Reiki retreats, I dined alone at Blind Lemon’s—named for the blues legend. The owner’s young relative tried my hat and sunglasses, mimicked me hilariously, and played with my phone while I ate.
Lake Atitlán hasn’t escaped Guatemala’s violence. In Santiago Atitlán, visit the church of Father Stanley Rother, an Oklahoma priest who translated the New Testament into Tzutujil Mayan and founded a hospital in Panabaj. In 1981, gunmen shot him twice in the head; 30 villagers had already been killed.
Rother’s hospital was later destroyed by a 2005 mudslide. Central America holds endless sites of tragedy, but this book focuses on joy amid hardship. Plenty of works chronicle violence; brave authors handle that vital task. I prefer boat songs from pretty guitarists—as do most people, outnumbering gunmen. That morning on the lake was clear and gun-free. Once thought bottomless, Lake Atitlán now has a measured depth, but its mystery endures.
If ever a fugitive, I’d hide on its hilly shores—anonymous, unquestioned. But now I’ve spilled it. Trust you, reader? Mostly. Plenty more hideouts await on this trip.
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