As we start to see the light at the end of the dark COVID tunnel, I have started to think back on some of the great travels to exciting places I have made in the past. Here is the story of visiting the Pulhapanzak waterfall an hour outside of San Pedro Sula in Honduras in January of 2020.
That morning we woke up about as early as a group of thirty something Americans partying abroad can do. Eyes were red after a long night of drinking Honduran beer at the cervezia and dancing at the Amnesia nightclub. A full Honduran breakfast awaited us in the hotel restaurant complete with barbacoa beef tips, papaya juice and plenty of local pastries.
With full stomachs, tired eyes and sore hips we dragged ourselves down to the 1970’s Toyota coach waiting in front of the secure hotel lobby to take our group for a day of fun at the Pulhapanzak waterfall. Flooring the gas pedal our driver kept the coach zigging and zagging through the four lanes of traffic that somehow filled the two lane highway of San Pedro Sula. Though we were packed like sardines in a tin can, sense of excitement was growing from scattered laughs to a constant chatter as the adventures of the day drew closer.
A few clouds in the distance provided the illusion of shade on an otherwise sun soaked day and as we excited the city, the road and it’s vehicles carved its way through the jungle with the force of a river bringing life to the scattered roadside villages that seem to be ever present in Honduras.
As the coach rolled into San Buenaventura, the small village surrounding the Pulhapanzak waterfalls, we drove through a small town square, still decorated with a giant fake Christmas tree, easily 40 feet high. A dog yapped in our direction as we hastily passed by it. Coming out of the square we drove along a graveyard surrounded by tall white walls. Inside the grave yard gleamed with colorful flowers left to remember ones long gone. At the end of the walls the bus turned right and we were there.
Paying our entry fee of about 5 us dollars a person we rushed to the lookout point overlooking the waterfall. Even from a far the water roared while droplets of water filled the air with a local mist. At the bottom of the fall an explosion of white water was surrounded by the lusciousness of green you only find in a jungle. Above the river was silent. In the burning Honduran sun the small natural pools were invitingly cool, though quickly we realized that below the surface the stream was strong, quick and ready to move us swiftly towards the roaring waterfall should we forget ourselves.
Starting at a line of small cabins maybe 2 football fields above the waterfall a series of 6 ziplines traverse the river and the fall. I had never ziplined before and to be quite honest I wasn’t too keen on the idea of being suspended high above a rock waterfall. Not wanting to appear a buzzkill I forced myself to sign up.
Being a big fella I approached the zipline with a firm grasp of my harnish and an unhealthy doze of anxiety. As the instructor plugged me in, he told me to sit down in the harnish and while push me over the edge he asked if I was ready, with no irony I shockingly said “no, but no point in turning back now.”
The first thing the came to me as I plunged across the river was how hard I was holding the harnish. My heart was pounding as passing branches gently slapped my bottom. Then suddenly before me the next platform rapidly approached and I fell into the arms of the waiting instructor. Quickly, before I could protest, he rebuckled me and sent me out on the next line.
The first four ziplines repeatedly traversed the shallow waters of the river upstream from the waterfall. As we got ready to finally cross the final two stretches across the Pulhapanzak waterfall the instructors wrangled all 22 of us onto a single platform attached to a single metal safety cord. Standing tightly together with the sun burning we chatted and laughed as we waited for the instructors to reposition themselves over on the next platforms.
Finally ready to go we were sent of individually across the first of the two remaining ziplines. Halfway through the group it was my turn. As the instructor struggled to help me lift myself up so he could attach me I considered bowing out, but knowing i would regret it i sucked in my fearfulness. Buckled in I started my journey. Below me a chasm of water, jungle and rock opened up. With nothing but the harnish to hold onto and simultaneously in awe of the raw beauty of nature I screamed F…U….C….K…. right until the instructor of the next to last platform grabbed me. One last trip remained. Unlike the previous platform there was no waiting on this platform and before I could count to twenty I was unbuckled, re-buckled and the instructor was pushing me back out on the line. I wish I could say that I took the opportunity on that last zip to really take in the beauty below me, but I was still very much caught in the fear of the moment, and I kept my eyes fixated on the last platform rapidly approaching, while clinging to the harnish.. and yes screaming once again.
No trip to Pulhapanzak is complete without a decent into the watery chaos at the bottom of the falls.
Settling in three small groups we in turn walked down the winding, slippery and uneven staircase into the depth of the fall. As we approached the air became richer with water then the otherwise humid jungle. Droplets of the fall flew far and wide soaking us before we even where in the water. The security fence around the fall was more organic mater then metal with algae having created it’s own little civilization there.
We entered the fall. At first it was easy. We crossed a small plateau, jumped feet first into a shallow pool only to climb once again onto another rocky plateau. Then like Kevin Costner and Mary Mastriano in Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves we ducked in through a flow of water into a small dry cave. It looked like a place young refugees from enslavement through the ages might have used as a hideout with room for a couple of people to stow away safely in complete hiding as the water covered the opening on all sides.
As we got ready to exit and follow the guide around to the center of the fall he explained that to avoid real risk of the water piercing our eyes through the simple sheer force of the fall we should at all times look down. He then continued to explain that to avoid affixation by water we should make sure to breathe through our mouths only..
With our heads lowered we followed the guide through the chaos of the fall holding onto each other and grasping at the rock as we swam and crawled past the main drop. As we started to ascended to a small naturally occurring cover above the pools below, the small . Not dry by any means by with enough space that we could catch a breath. From there the guide showed us a little rock where we could stand and see “safely” the full majesty of the fall.
Standing on the rock the weight of the water hitting my back was massive. I stood tall, closed my eyes and stretched out my arms like Leo in Titanic. In that moment I felt as if reborn. Nothing on my mind but the moment.
All good things come to an end and so did this moment. It was time to leave the mouth of the fall. But first it was time for some fun in the natural pools surrounding us. The guide took us to a few select spots showed us where to jump and there we went. Going feet first the pools where deep but not endlessly so. More then once my feet felt a rock or two as my descend into the water slowed.
The thrill of the water play was like a shot of adrenaline, and even though each new plunge proved harder to get to the previous. The final jumped proved to be the hardest. Exhausted from moving and around wet slippery rocks this jump required us to first climb 20 ft muddy vertical river bank. A rock here and there provided the permanent fixtures. I ascended slowly not wanting to slip and fall onto the shallow rocks below.
At the top the guide instructed us to as far away from the rock as possible to make sure we hit the deep part of the pool below. At that moment standing on a natural ledge about to plunge myself into the pool I felt a moment of doubt. Was this to big of a risk? Should I refrain?
Luckily the thrill took over and casting aside my hesitation I jumped. As my feet penetrated the surface I felt a surge of joy. Submerging with rapid force I had no longer any control and could only wait for the kinetic energy to wane before I once again could resurface. Finally when I did the first breath of misty air was one filled with a smile from ear to ear.
Worth it!
AbsurdlyAmerican.com 