Lake Atitlan

The first draft of this one was indeed written on the Hostal del Lago dock just as it says. I'm keeping the present tense in place to preserve the original flavor of this entry

...or some junk.

It is early morning and I am sitting on the end of the dock in front of my hostel. The cold, clear water laps against the stones on the lake shore and sets the reed beds dancing. Fishermen in tiny narrow wooden boats are scattered across the surface of the water. They set traps and cast nets as generations of fishermen before them have probably done. If appearance is any indication, their ancestors probably used the exact same high keeled vessels. The curtain of early morning mist gradually pulls back to reveal San Pedro nestled among the slopes of volcanoes on the opposite shore. Before the massive peaks are fully revealed, they loom in the vapor, seemingly as insubstantial as clouds, mere shadows only slightly darker patches of fog. The sky is a flawless, unbroken surface of robin's egg blue. In moments like this, you may perhaps be forgiven for believing that Lake Atitlan is a pristine and tranquil environment.

In reality like so much of the Guatemalan ecosystem, the lake and it's surroundings are deeply troubled. On my first morning here I ran full force into the truth of the situation. I intended to hike up into the hills to explore what I assumed to be the surrounding woodland. I arose early to make sure I could clear the agricultural lands before the sun got too high and while animals were more likely to be active. Before too long I had come too the outskirts of the village and was walking through coffee plantation. A few hours later, I came to the realization that the plantations continued all the way to the peak of the mountain and spilled over to the other side uninterrupted only by an occasional patch of cornstalks. there were stands of large trees but these were almost without exception, avocados or citrus. The birds I did see displayed the habitual wariness of animals accustomed to being treated as pests. This is largely the case everywhere. Any arable land is burnt clear and planted with crops. Trees are either fruit bearing or used for firewood or lumber as soon as they are large enough. Protected areas do exist, isolated islands of jungle and cloud forest, but these are scattered and poorly monitored due to government instability. It is nearly impossible t o dissuade the locals from gathering wood or poaching for food or profit.

Mostly, as much as I deplore the ecological consequences, I cannot wholly fault these people for what they have done to the land. their life is harder than most of us could imagine or endure. They live in dire poverty and must make a living any way they can. I can't help but admire the farmers especially. they are extremely hard working and capable of using land that would be considered too steep by most. After climbing through some of their fields, there is little doubt a Guatemalan farmer could cultivate a wall! It is difficult to consider the future consequences of your actions when you are trying to keep your family fed today. these people are only doing what they must to survive, even if it is at the world's cost.

This tolerance and understanding in no way extends to the poachers. The first time I encountered a parrot seller by the side of the road, his unfortunate wares tethered to a stick, I nearly sprang from the vehicle and beat him senseless. Wild bird poaching and smuggling is one of the cruelest and most environmentally destructive black market industries imaginable. I will not elaborate the ghoulish practices of this trade here. I will simply state that I would sooner befriend a pimp than a parrot smuggler!

The lake itself has recently become subject to blooms of green algae due to fertilizer runoff and sewage dumping. The good news is that awareness of the various environmental issues is rapidly growing and many grassroots organizations are taking action to stem the tide of destruction. While these efforts are worthwhile and producing results, Lake Atitlan is already in the natural history books as a cautionary tale and a tragedy.

Lake Atitlan was formed in the crater of an extinct volcano high in the mountains. The isolation and remoteness of the lake made it a unique environment. Because the lake is so deep and expansive, a waterbird doesn't need to fly to escape most predators, just swim out further. The Lake Atitlan grebe had adapted exactly this strategy (Pictured here in an illustration by Peter Schouten, from the excellent book "A Gap in Nature" By Tim Flannery and Peter Schouten. No copyright infringement intended). These grebes locally called "Poc" because of the sound they made nested in the reed beds and were completely flightless. The local population made mats and ornamental weaving out of these reeds. As tourism became more prevalent, more and more reeds were harvested. In an ill conceived effort to boost tourism to the area the now defunct airline giant, PanAm, decided to stock the lake with largemouth bass. Atitlan never attracted the sports fishermen as PanAm had hoped. The bass thrived and grew large. Bass will eat basically anything they can fit into their mouths, which not only included the small fish and crustaceans that the poc ate, but also baby grebes. This encroachment on the grebes' nesting sites, and introduced threat to their dietary supply and offspring caused the birds' numbers to decline drastically. The problem was further compounded by the appearance of the Pocs' smaller and heartier cousin, the Pied billed Grebe which became unwelcome competition. Rescue efforts were put into place to preserve the remaining population, but these were thwarted by revolution and a sizable earthquake that lowered the water level of the lake . In 1989 the Lake Atitlan Grebe achieved the dubious distinction of becoming the best documented extinction in recorded history.

-J