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october-2009

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Four minutes later, I pull up to a sign<br />

and a small, thatched-roof welcome hut.<br />

I park and embark on a short, steep hike<br />

through dense tropical dry woods. At most<br />

ruins, the surrounding area is cleared;<br />

here, the palace—so close to the path,<br />

gleaming white through the forest—is a<br />

stunning apparition. The first view is of<br />

the three-tiered western façade, flanked by<br />

staircases leading to watchtowers. A grand<br />

staircase running from the base of the<br />

plaza to a third-story platform dominates<br />

the other side. The other buildings have<br />

stylistic carvings and design elements, like<br />

masks carved into walls and a serpent’s<br />

mouth at the entry to an apartment.<br />

Despite signs warning that the<br />

building is structurally unsound, I decide<br />

to climb to the upper tiers. (It’s survived<br />

centuries of hurricanes, what are a few<br />

more footsteps?) As if in response to my<br />

irreverence, the wind suddenly shifts<br />

direction. Thunder rumbles, and I feel a<br />

drop of rain.<br />

I race to the car, hoping to outrun the<br />

approaching storm—but my good luck<br />

has run out. The rain falls faster than the<br />

windshield wipers can clear it, and the<br />

road quickly becomes a river of pale, thin<br />

mud. The tiny subcompact swerves in<br />

the sludge, its bicycle-thin tires slamming<br />

into the water-filled potholes that I so<br />

carefully avoided on the way in. I picture<br />

myself skidding into a ditch, standing on<br />

top of my swamped car and watching the<br />

water rise.<br />

After what feels like an eternity of<br />

white-knuckled driving, I manage to coax<br />

my car back to the paved road, where<br />

I pull over and wait out the storm. The<br />

temple may not have crumbled on top of<br />

me, but this is pretty close.<br />

And as I sit there massaging my<br />

cramped hands, I feel lucky to have experienced<br />

these two ruins in such an intimate<br />

way, despite unforgiving dirt roads,<br />

sudden storms and being constantly lost.<br />

As I flip through the book that inspired<br />

my journey, the first word of the title<br />

jumps out at me: Incidents. Stephens was<br />

right: Discovery can be determined just as<br />

much by the mishaps and accidents that<br />

occur along a journey as the preparation<br />

that goes into it—but, in any case, a sense<br />

of adventure is absolutely necessary.

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