Guatemala Blog #5 — Río Dulce: Kayaks, Canyons & a Very Hot Waterfall
Quiet water, jungle detours, pirate forts, and a waterfall so hot it felt unreal. What started as a slow reset turned into one of the most unexpected adventures of my Guatemala trip.
Goodbyes, Tequila Sunrise & Figuring Out My Next Move
Saying goodbye to my best friend, Bryce was harder than I expected.
We’d just spent seven days being absolute chaos together — drinking games, bad decisions, long talks, and somehow surviving it all — and then suddenly, I was alone again. Once he headed to the airport, I checked back into Tequila Sunrise Hostel, my safe little reset bubble in Guatemala City.
Hot showers.
Good Wi-Fi.
Familiar faces.
I didn’t rush anywhere that day. I wandered. I slowed down. I gave myself permission to feel a little weird about being solo again. Eventually, I made my way to Museo Ixchel del Traje Indígena, a textile museum I really loved. Guatemala’s traditional clothing is unreal — the colours, the patterns, the history stitched into everything. It was calm, grounding, and exactly the kind of place I needed to be in that moment.
That night, I sat down with my notebook, my laptop, and a very needed alcoholic beverage and tried to plan my next move in Guatemala.
After Flores.
After Atitlán.
After Antigua chaos.
I looked at the map and thought:
“Let’s go east.”
Río Dulce felt right.
Water.
Jungle.
Quiet.
I booked a bus, booked accommodation, and went to bed feeling like I had a direction again.
Guatemala’s traditional clothing is unreal. The colours, patterns, and history woven into every piece made this museum one of my favourite quiet stops in the city.
The Seven-Hour Bus Ride & the Dock Confusion
The bus ride to Río Dulce took about seven hours, and by the time I arrived, I was ready to get off. Then, the humidity hit immediately. You could feel the jungle.
I knew my accommodation — Hotel Kangaroo y Restaurante — offered a free boat pickup,
Except… they wanted me to call them from the dock.
With what phone?
Using what Guatemalan data plan?
On what planet was that going to happen?
So, I went looking for a dock.
I found one and asked if they could call the hotel for me.
The guy looked at me and said,
“Not here.”
Then pointed across the street.
Cool.
I walked to the second dock, tried again, and that person thankfully helped me out. They called the hotel, explained where I was, and told me to wait.
Because yes — I did not have a working phone.
And yes — I was already thinking, how the f* am I supposed to call them?
Ten minutes later, a small boat pulled up, and I finally exhaled.
Dropped off near the bridge in Río Dulce and immediately had to figure out where the actual dock was. Spoiler: this was not it.
Arriving at Hotel Kangaroo & Slowing Way Down
The boat ride to Hotel Kangaroo was short — about ten minutes — but beautiful. Green everywhere. Calm water. That quiet, tucked-away feeling.
I’d booked three nights, which felt generous for once. No rushing. No tight schedule. Just time.
The place was peaceful — almost silent — and I didn’t mind at all. I checked in, unpacked, and spent the rest of that first day doing basically nothing. Sitting. Thinking. Looking at the water. Trying to figure out how I wanted to spend my days there.
By the end of the night, I had a loose plan:
Kayak the lake
Kayak to the fort
Find some jungle adventures
That was enough.
The next morning, I woke up ready to actually do something.
My shuttle to Hotel Kangaroo — trading buses and cities for water, jungle, and quiet.
Kayaking to a Pirate Fort (And Immediately Making Everything Difficult)
I woke up, had my free breakfast, packed my waterproof bag, and dragged a kayak into the water like some confident adventurer who actually knows what she’s doing.
Spoiler: I did not.
The paddle to Castillo de San Felipe took about 30 minutes. Easy. Chill. I even thought, “Wow, I’m actually good at kayaking.”
Then I tried to dock.
Apparently, the spot where I pulled up wanted me to pay just to park the kayak — before paying the fort entrance fee. Sorry… what?
I stared at them.
They stared back.
I decided I was not paying twice.
So off I went again, paddling around trying to find another place to sneak in. I found a little secret-ish spot, hid my kayak like the genius I am, and walked into the area only to learn that the entire little island thing charges an entrance fee no matter where you come from.
Of course it does.
I should’ve known.
Google failed me.
But honestly? Totally worth it.
The fort was adorable and dramatic in that “I fought pirates” kind of way. The Spanish built it in the 1600s to stop Caribbean pirates from sailing up the river and stealing everything. It’s small, stone, and full of little tunnels that make you duck even if you’re short.
I took so many photos.
So. Many. Photos.
After exploring the fort and wandering around the surrounding area, I went back to my hidden kayak spot praying no one took it. It was still there (shockingly), and I paddled out again to take some pictures from the water.
Then I attempted to kayak toward the massive Río Dulce bridge.
Bad idea.
My arms?
They quit immediately.
I took breaks.
I hyped myself up.
I told myself “You can do it.”
And then my arms said, “Actually, no you cannot.”
So, I turned around like a defeated little shrimp and paddled — slowly — back to the hostel.
I ordered a rum and Coke the second I arrived. I deserved it. And then I laid in bed and watched Netflix like the retired athlete I suddenly felt like.
The kayak, the fort, the confidence… and the exact moment my arms decided they were done.
Jungle Day: A Canyon, a Swim, and the Very Real Fear of Monkey Poop
The next morning, I packed my waterproof bag with everything I thought I’d need — a towel, my waterproof camera, my wallet, and a water bottle — and headed out for what I decided would be jungle adventure day.
I caught the free boat shuttle to town and then a shuttle van, and about an hour later, I was dropped off on the side of the road in front of a sign that read:
“Bienvenidos a El Boquerón.”
There was also a very clear sign that said:
15Q por persona.
Sold.
A local young man approached and offered to take me through Boquerón Canyon by boat. The plan was simple: he’d paddle me through the canyon, drop me off so I could explore on foot, and then come back to pick me up later and take me out the same way.
Honestly? Perfect.
The boat ride through the canyon was incredible. The walls closed in on both sides, vines hanging down, thick jungle everywhere. It was quiet in that way that makes you automatically lower your voice, even though no one told you to.
He dropped me off, pointed ahead, and that was it. Just me and the canyon.
Not long after I started exploring, I came across four police officers standing on a large rock, casually taking photos of each other like they were on some kind of jungle photoshoot. I remember thinking, wow, must be a rough day at work. Once they noticed me, they wrapped things up and left, and suddenly I had the canyon completely to myself again.
The “path” through the canyon wasn’t really a path at all — it was mostly walking directly in the water. At first it was shallow — ankle-deep, then knee-deep — weaving around rocks and boulders as the canyon walls closed in tighter and tighter.
I kept going, taking a ridiculous amount of photos, until eventually the water got deeper. The rocks disappeared, and it turned into a section where you actually had to swim. There was no way around it — this was the only direction forward.
So I held my waterproof bag over my head, took a breath, and swam across, very thankful I packed properly and didn’t cheap out on the bag.
I climbed out on the other side and explored a bit more, but not too much longer. That familiar solo-traveller thought kicked in:
Okay… this is probably far enough.
So, I turned around.
And that’s when I heard them.
Branches moving.
Leaves shaking.
Noise overhead.
I looked up and saw what I’m pretty sure were spider monkeys, moving through the trees above the canyon. And, of course, doing what monkeys apparently love to do while crossing gaps.
Pooping.
I froze, stared upward, and waited, fully aware that this could go very wrong very quickly. Somehow — miraculously — I did not get hit. I watched them for a bit, took more photos, and then slowly made my way back toward the pickup point.
When the boat returned, I climbed back in, and we paddled back through the canyon — this time heading out — which somehow felt just as impressive the second time around.
Canyon adventure complete.
Monkey poop avoided.
A solid win.
El Boquerón Canyon — narrow walls, jungle silence, and the constant threat of monkey poop.
The Hot Waterfall: Mud Baths, Locals, and the Best Shower of My Life
After finishing up at the canyon, I headed back toward the road to catch another van. My arms were tired, I was sweaty, and I felt very accomplished — but the day wasn’t over yet.
Next stop: Finca El Paraíso.
Also known as the hot waterfall.
Also known as the thing I was most excited about.
The waterfall is located on private property, so you pay a small entrance fee and then follow a path through the jungle to get there. I was told it was “just a short walk.”
It was not.
It took about 30 minutes, and by the end of it I was questioning my life choices — but the second I saw steam rising through the trees, I knew it was worth it.
And wow.
It did not disappoint.
The waterfall itself is hot — like, genuinely hot — and it crashes down into a river that’s cold and refreshing. So you can move back and forth between the two depending on how dramatic you’re feeling that day.
There were quite a few people there when I arrived, which made sense because it’s such a cool spot. But even with the crowd, it still felt special. Jungle all around, warm water pouring down, mist in the air — it didn’t feel real.
There was an older man there who kind of looks after the place and the people visiting. I struck up a conversation with him, and when I mentioned my friend Paulo, his face lit up immediately.
“Ohhh, Paulo,” he said.
Then paused.
Then smiled.
That’s when he decided I was getting the good mud.
He led me off the main path, up a muddy little hill, and down a side trail where he dug into the ground and pulled out thick, warm volcanic mud. Not the tourist mud — the good mud.
He covered my arms, legs, and face, and told me I had to wait at least 20 minutes before washing it off. He even took photos for me, which was very appreciated because I looked like a full swamp creature at that point.
As the day went on, fewer and fewer people were around, and eventually it felt like I had the place almost to myself.
When my time was finally up, I stepped under the waterfall and just… stood there.
The water was hot.
The pressure was strong.
And I didn’t want to move.
It honestly felt like the longest, most relaxing shower I’d had in weeks. I couldn’t tell you the last time I’d had a proper hot shower — or when I’d have one again — so I soaked up every second of it.
I stayed under that waterfall way longer than I probably needed to. I didn’t care. It was worth it.
Eventually, as the sun started to lower, I knew it was time to head back. I didn’t want to get stuck out there after dark, so I slowly made my way back toward the road to find a van back to town.
Finca El Paraíso — hot water, jungle steam, and the most relaxing “shower” I’d had in weeks.
Back Toward the Water: Dinner on the Dock & Waiting on a Boat
By the time I made it back toward the road after the waterfall, I was exhausted — but in a good way. Not sunburnt, not wrecked… just tired from a long, full day that felt fun and completely different from anything I’d done so far in Guatemala.
I caught a van back toward Río Dulce and spent most of the ride staring out the window, replaying the day in my head. Jungle, canyon walls, monkeys, hot waterfall — it had been a lot.
Once I got back to town, I still had one more thing to figure out: how to get back to my accommodation.
Since I was staying across the water, I needed a boat shuttle, which meant finding the right dock. I wandered down toward the waterfront, asking around until I found a restaurant sitting right on a dock — the perfect place to kill time, eat, and wait for a boat.
Two birds. One dock.
I sat down, ordered food, and finally let myself relax for the first time all day. I was starving, so I played it safe and ordered pizza.
Big mistake.
I asked for no onions.
I even used Google Translate to be extra clear.
And yet… onions.
So many onions.
At that point, I was too tired to fight the universe. I picked most of them off, accepted the onion-flavoured aftermath, and ate anyway. I didn’t tip — not out of spite, but because come on… I tried.
While I waited, I kept an eye on the water, watching boats come and go, knowing one of them would eventually take me back to my hotel. When my shuttle finally arrived, I hopped on, relieved that I didn’t have to problem-solve anything else that night.
By the time I got back to my accommodation, it was fully dark and I was running on that mix of exhaustion and quiet excitement that usually hits after a really good travel day.
I showered, changed into something comfortable, and then did the one thing I had to do before letting myself relax: pack.
The next morning, I’d be heading to Livingston, and I didn’t want to be scrambling or rushing. I laid everything out, double-checked I hadn’t left anything drying somewhere random, and got my bag as ready as possible.
Once that was done, I finally crawled into bed, put something mindless on Netflix, and let my body catch up to the day. No more plans. No more decisions. Just rest.
Río Dulce had surprised me in the best way — quiet, wild, a little chaotic, and completely different from anywhere else I’d been in Guatemala.
Tomorrow, though, I’d be trading jungle and river life for the Caribbean coast.
Livingston was next.
No pizza photo, but this was the real reward — a simple bed, dry clothes, and finally stopping for the day.
