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Most people don\'t realize that there are two "four o\'clocks" each day. The incessant screeching of the alarm clock made that painfully evident, and we rolled out of bed in a stupor and began to get dressed. Once our rucksack was packed, we heaved it downstairs and joined a couple more wayward travelers at the all-night restaurant. A couple salty eggs with a dollop of refried beans provided the incentive to return to blissful slumber, but instead we boarded a minibus and took our leave of Flores.
The passengers collectively fell out of the bus at the park gate just after dawn, and from there we began the hike through the jungle. The jungle was surprisingly cool, even for the early morning, and small families of coatis scampered up the path ahead of us. Climbing a mild incline, we found ourselves in the centre of the Great Plaza of Tikal. Hundreds of years ago, this area would have been bustling with activity, but for the moment, we had it to ourselves. The Temple of the Masks is open for climbing, and so we began the rather precarious climb to the top. Our steps echoed through the hollow stone staircase. It stands about 38 metres above the jungle floor and looks out over the expanse of ruins. Directly ahead is the Temple of the Great Jaguar, a mirrored image of the Temple of the Masks and final resting-place for their builder, Ah Cacao.
As we followed the dirt path through the jungle to reach it, howler monkeys began to wake and stir. We approached the base, and began the arduous climb up a rudimentary staircase. The climb was virtually vertical as it wove around the roots and branches of enormous trees and eventually led us up to the crown of the Temple. Two hundred feet below us, the howler monkeys wailed and screamed. Tikal would have been one awesome place back then, and it still is.
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