The Mayan Road Less Traveled

The following morning, we set out on our own for Kohunlich, a site not far from Dzibanchi. Built around 500 AD and abandoned in the 12th or 13th century, Kohunlich is best-known for its well-preserved Temple of the Masks, where somber stone faces loom from the walls. The site seems prepared for busloads of tourists who have yet to arrive. As we pull into the vast field of a parking area, several young men in park ranger shirts lounging on the grass seem startled to see us, the only visitors.

While my family lays out our picnic, I wander under a canopy of palms toward "The 27 Steps," nearly camouflaged by the dense forest. When I climb the steep stones, the unexpected remains of a residential complex sprawl out like an ancient condo development. Standing alone above the trees, I imagine the thrill archaeologists must feel when they stumble on traces of a long-ago civilization.

On our last morning at Rancho Encantado, we awaken at six to the resort's version of a wake-up call—footsteps outside our cottage and a melodious voice half-whispering "Buenos dias." We are taking a Rancho trip into Belize, a two-hour drive followed by a 90-minute ferry journey down the New River to Lamanai. According to our guide, Wilfredo, the Mayas lived in Lamanai for more than 3,000 years.

Minutes after we board the ferry near the Belize town of Orange Walk, Wilfredo points to the marshy shore, "On the left. A crocodile!" As we travel downriver we spot herons, egrets, hawks, and a jabiru stork, one of the largest birds in the Americas. Sometimes, you see howler monkeys, Wilfredo tells us in his lilting Caribbean English. We are puzzling over a tree dotted with black, fist-sized knobs, when the knobs sprout wings and fly off in a swarm—bats. Several times, the boatman cuts the engine as we chug past fishermen floating in canoes carved from hollowed-out tree trunks.

Wilfredo explains that only five of Lamanai's more than 700 structures are open to the public. Yet tucked into the rain forest, these structures include towering pyramids, intricately carved columns, and the scattered remains of villages.

Crossing a large open field toward a pyramid, we are caught in a sudden downpour. My instinct is to take shelter under the nearby broad-leafed palms, but my daughters stop and turn their faces to the sky. They spread their arms like wings, open their mouths, and, in their own way, soak up the world as the ancient people must have done.