People obviously love Chaa Creek, which is one of the reasons we went there, though it was a tough decision whether we went to Chan Chich or Coppolaworld instead. Our agent, Journey Latin America, urged Chaa Creek on us, so we went for three nights. And I’m still wondering why we went and, indeed, why it’s there.
We drove from Tikal, Guatemala - an interesting two-hour drive and the border crossing took less than five minutes. I think Chaa Creek succeeds or fails on what you want or expect from it. We wanted three days of relaxing jungle ambience with world-class birdwatching. We did not want spa treatments, canoeing, horse-riding or strenuous hiking. So maybe we were not ideal guests. Were we alone in our disappointment? Well, all the Americans we spoke to evidently loved it. The only British couple we met couldn’t wait to leave and they had just come from Chan Chich, which they rated highly.
At first glance, Chaa Creek is lovely. The garden is surprisingly manicured for a jungle lodge, perhaps too manicured. Our room - No.8 - was excellent, spacious, soaring roof, big comfy bed, nice modern colors, large terrace with two chairs and hammocks, good bathroom, no bugs. Not a patch on Uruguay’s Four Seasons or a top-notch safari lodge but still very acceptable. The meet-and-greet staff put you in a good frame of mind.
Doubts started to creep early on, at dinner. They have a system here - only two choices of main course, no choices for starters or pudding. I hate set menus - choosing your food from a menu is a pleasure and having no choice seems only to serve the restaurant, not the customer. Clearly, they have supply limitations, but not on the lunch menu and they must have freezers. My pork chops were dry, tasteless and smothered in a brutal sauce. Coffee was terrible. Not a good start. Subsequent meals were hardly better - I’m still chewing that conch steak. Another minus point was room servicing, often as late as 3pm and leaving our wooden floors soaking wet and soapy.
Much is made here of how the place got going, how its owners, Mike and Lucy Fleming, started up as a sort of agri-commune and went slightly hesitantly into the rough-and-ready B&B business. It’s now a full-blown, $700-a day luxury resort catering principally to stressed-out execs from the States - I expect the Flemings sometimes wonder how on earth that happened. Much is made, too, of its sustainability, its eco credentials, something I am always skeptical about. They trade in making you feel good about saving the planet, that you are doing your bit just by staying there, reassured that they recycle their typed menus every day. They tell you turn your lights off and leave your towels hanging up, only for the room maid to turn all the lights on and change all your towels anyway. And of course you fly there in a big fat jet plane and arrive at the lodge in a 4x4.
During the our stay we wandered the garden, we walked down to the River Macal, we did the Macal Camp river walk and we walked right around the property. And all the time we wondered, why is this place here? In our view, the landscape was distinctly ordinary - there was no outstanding feature and, fatally, the hotel lacks any kind of sweeping view of the river (really little more than a big stream) or any view at all. There is no wow factor, nothing to stare at in wonder, and relatively few birds - for instance, we saw more species in an hour at Lake Atitlan than we did in 3 days here. There is only this rather Beverly Hills-like manicured garden. It has a spa, internet access (on the slowest computer in the world) and I even spotted a TV. It’s all far too tame, too complacent in its environmental awareness. So why don’t they provide some seats on their walks, or a viewing platform on stilts overhanging the river? And - heresy, heresy - why don’t they bite the bullet and instal a lovely swimming pool so that guests can cool off in the sweltering heat?
I regret to say this, because we are aficionados of luxury hotels, but in many ways we rather preferred Jungle Lodge at Tikal. That was fun. This was boring.







