Candle in hand, I stepped into the water-filled bat cave. Joining me were five fellow bucket-listers, each with an assigned candle. This novelty accessory completed the quartet of essential elements of which we travellers yearn: Earth, Air, Water, Fire. A far cry from the non-essential equivalents back home: carpet, air-conditioning, beer, phone-screens. Our tour guide lit the first flame, then it was passed one candle to the next like a Chinese-whisper providing a temporary intimacy that relaxed those who were wrestling with their inner-claustrophobic. We must overcome fears, right? The fear of the unknown condemns those unable to unshackle themselves to a life on repeat. A blur broken only by “good morning” and “good night”. But “good” has never been good enough for me, nor did I suspect, was it good enough for my fellow cave-dwellers. When a fear is overcome, each subsequent fear is a hurdle that lowers with every clearing, and so, despite the fear of entering a dark, watery maze with only a small flame, us “good isn’t enough-ers” advanced. The water began at our knees. By the third bend it had reached our torsos. Together we created sufficient visibility, but as the water rose and with every wrong turn, our numbers declined as did our sight. At the point of no return the water lapped at my chin, with shorter members now dog-paddling. Their candles lasted only as long as their heads remained above water. Our attempts to hold these weaker swimmers up long enough for them to cling to a wall jeopardised our ability to hold onto our own candles and so, faced with a choice of risky rescue or self-preservation, we chose individual survival. There was no mention of this danger in the brochure. Yes, there were deluxe tours complete with head-torches and packed lunches, but backpackers always penny pinch after converting to local currency. “Wanna save 30 Quetzales by choosing the candle option?” Yep. “Need a packed lunch?” Nah, I’ll take a protein bar. Nowhere did it state that this expedition, without a reliable light source, would be our last. Had I known, I would have bought six torches and shouted the whole group packed lunches. Instead, our tour provided dying candles, dying people and a guide who had vanished, though his unintelligible Spanish could be heard echoing off the labyrinth’s blackened walls like a fairground haunted-house. Directions were scrambled, not that a GPS would be useful; google maps doesn’t have a “cave view”. Abandoned candles now bobbed about serving as a vigil for those who seemed permanently submerged, while overhead hung a colony of bats, their million sets of eyes focused like vultures. This was no marathon. Our perilous state was unravelling quickly. Like a bushwalker whose lifespan has been determined by the circulating poison of a snake bite, we would stay alive only as long as we stayed afloat. Pulling oneself onto rocks was made impossible by moss that acted as a slippery-slide delivering desperate day-trekkers to their demise. In the dimming light I counted three, then four, then five tiring figures, meaning somehow no one had yet succumbed. Somehow they all had found each other and were now trying to anchor themselves off one another to reach a rocky outcrop. None, though, were willing to offer themselves as the step needed for the others to climb, for that person would surely be left behind. None would act for the greater good and so none would survive. “Good” was never good enough for me. Not pretty good. Not fairly good. But the greater good? Yes, that must suffice. I offered my shoulders as a step, then lowered myself to the bottom allowing the others to clamber up. They slipped and kicked, climbing from my shoulders to my head to their safety, while I stood underwater increasingly lifeless. They say before you die you go toward a light. Well I did see a light, not the angelic entrance to heaven though, but the kind produced by seven head-torches. The deluxe tour had set-off an hour after us and had now caught up. They escorted us to the outside world and, when we got our collective breath back, they shared their packed lunch.