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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.