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| We left the Rio Tula after breakfast and a dip in the reservoir. Had a look at the mighty dam that made the damned reservoir. It was a 600 foot high concrete plug in a 300 foot wide and 1000 foot deep canyon. Yep, that will make a big lake! We drove up and over the Sierra Madre Oriental into Veracruz. Lots of steep and windy mountain roads. Mo still was not running so well. Carburetor trouble. I was worried. Intermittently I'd had the same trouble at home, but it had been prohibitively expensive to fix. Now I was in Mexico where they don't even have Subarus! Descending from the crest of the range, we left the high and dry interior of Mexico behind. The hillsides turned green and overgrown from a continuous flow of rain and humidity from the Gulf of Mexico. Banana and coffee plantations began to appear. We had finally reached "tropical" Mexico. Lots of carnage on the road heading down into Veracruz. Two semis had rolled off the highway. A Chevy truck had rolled as well. On one side of the truck was a bruised, scraped, and shaken man being cared for by army soldiers, on the other side lay another man with his arms up and shirt pulled over his face. Hadn't seen any wrecks up until this point. A bit unsettling. I assume the right to drive where I wish, and consider the risks of this freedom. Reality check. 50,000 Americans die in car wrecks every year. How many Mexicans? We drove through a couple dirty, crazy towns: Xicotepec de Juarez and Avila Camacho. Roads were poor and full of pot holes, speed bumps and trash. Trucks and busses parked haphazardly. Greasy laborers swarmed. I was beginning to feel uneasy. The high desert of central Mexico was familiar, similar to parts of Colorado and the Southwest. Now I was in a tropical land. What lurked in this strange forest? I feared breaking down in a frenzied mob. Would we be hauled out of the car and served up at some Mayan ritual feast? Or would I find that little kid to help us, like Indiana Jones does. "Dr. Yule, this way!" We would push Mo through parting fruit and vegetable carts. Dogs and chickens would scatter, and a dirty garage door would roll up. We'd pull inside and slip away to sip rum by on an immaculate veranda overlooking unspoiled jungle. Some fiery babe would pretended not to like us. Is that how it goes? We camped in the bush near Poza Rica. The next day we sputtered into town and talked to some mechanics. They all were either too busy to help us, or afraid of working on a Subaru. We sputtered on along the Costa Esmeralda and stopped for a fried fish lunch. Then back up into the mountains. Finally in Martinez we found a mechanic to help us. He was a carburetion specialist. Luckily for us business was slow. He took the carburetor out, rebuilt it, and reinstalled in less than an hour and a half, and at a fraction of the cost I'd been quoted back home! While we waited, Nathan toured town on the bike and we shared a liter of Corona with lime at the bakery next door. Mom and son were making a birthday cake--a sheet cake cut and filled with coconut and pineapple. It was a new bakery, only its 3rd day of business. The 14 year old son had worked in another bakery, and was teaching mom all the tricks of the trade. We talked politics. "Everyone" votes in Mexico. There is still too much corruption in the government. President Fox works hard on relations with the USA and advocates Mexican workers going there. Taxes are higher now but schools and health care are getting better. Made it to the Rio Bobos. Hiked around a bit, took in sweet jungle smells, and set up camp. Roasted chorizos over a modest campfire, sautéed some veggies on the stove, and drank a couple of beers. Bathed with soap for the second time on the trip. As we went to bed a few guys showed up with head lamps and fishing nets. I heard them splash off in the shallow, wide river joking amongst themselves and occasionally throwing out a net and making excited whoops. Ran the Rio Bobos the next day. A fun class III warm-up. Found a tunnel system in the soft sedimentary cliffs next to the river. There was water in them and I paddled into a few of them. Did they sink into the river during an earth quake? Were they relics of Mayan civilization? We had locked the bike at the take out. I rode it back to camp to get the car. I discovered they were re-grading the road down to the river that day. Big piles of rock fill blocked the road. I asked when the road would be open again, and they said 3-4 hours. Who knows how long that would be on Mexico time! I looked over the situation and figured I could coax Mo around and over the piles of fill. No one believed me. They said I needed a jeep. The grader and dump trucks let me through, and in 4wd low I Mo and I amazed the crowd. "What kind of car is that Gringo driving?" I picked up a guy hitch hiking on the way back. I dropped him off at a piece of his land where he grows bananas. To thank me, he cut off a 50 pound branch of bananas and gave it to me. I tried to give some away to others as I was used to only carrying a couple of pounds of bananas with me at a time, but everyone refused. They all said,” We have a lot of bananas here!" On to Tlapacoya to look for a taxi shuttle to run the Upper Rio Filo. According to our guide book, it was a several hour shuttle over bad roads and up and down several thousand feet in and out of the canyon. This ruled out a bike shuttle. A guy ran up to us and asked if he could give us directions. He was a raft guide on the local rivers and spotted our kayaks. We told him of our plans, and he offered to run our shuttle for us for a reasonable price. He also offered us a place to stay for the night. We ran a few errands and picked him up on the way out of town. He lived with his wife and three kids in a town on top of a hill at the end of the paved road; Plan de Arroyos. We drove around town on cobble stone streets and down a cobble sidewalk to his house. We met his family and walked a loop around down town. We were the center of attention--not many foreigners come here. Had dinner of chicken vegetable soup--I got a thigh in mine. Black beans and tortillas on the side. We retired to the front porch where it was cooler. Met a neighbor from Nicaragua. He told us it was "tranquilo" throughout Central America now, and not to worry traveling there. Looked at Feliciano's wood shop. He is a carpenter when he's not raft guiding. I taught the kids a few simple "magic" tricks with their fingers. Nice kids--12, 10, and 5 years old. Feliciano and his wife were very proud of and involved in their kids lives, coaching their volley ball teams, etc. We were up early the next morning. Feliciano directed us out of town on a gravel road down into the canyon of the Rio Filo. After an hour and a half drive, we arrived at a small settlement. We parked in the middle of the road in front of the only shop in town. Feliciano asked if there was a boy who could "teach" us the way to the bottom of the canyon. The woman was skeptical. It was 10 am and she said all of the kids would be in school or on their way home for lunch. Within a couple of minutes an old man showed up. He was optimistic. We ordered a round of sodas and within 15 minutes he had a crew of 6 men and boys and a dog assembled to take us to the river. We agreed on a very modest fee, and set out for the river. Nathan and I carried our boats and passed out our paddles and other gear amongst our guides. We followed cobble stone paths through farmed plots and small houses. Then we descended steep trails in the jungle. At one point the dog went nuts! Our guides grabbed the dog. It had found 6 foot long snake in the bush. I got out my camera and took a couple of pictures. Then our guides began hurtling stones at it. They said it was a relative of the cobra. Very poisonous and not welcome on their land. We soon arrived at the river. Geared up, shook hands with our crew, and got on the river. They stayed to hunt shrimp with metal skewers before their hike back up the canyon. We paddled for a few hours. A couple of waterfalls several hundred feet high poured into the canyon. Bananas and corn were grown where the valley opened up a bit. We arrived at the take-out and Feliciano was waiting. We had hoped he could drive down to the Mayan ruins. It was getting late and Feliciano wished to get home to his family for dinner. We let him go and gave many thanks. Feliciano whishes to come to the USA to work for a year or two. He wanted a contact in the US. We said we would help him if we could. We got on the road to the Cuahilotes Mayan ruins. Always known to the locals, the ruins were revealed to the archeological world only a few years ago by a group of Gringo rafters. We stopped at a group of people to clarify our directions. One guy got in for a ride down to the river, and a 10 year old boy began to run next to us down the bumpy road. I began to joke with him. "I bet you can run faster than the car." He disagreed. "I can run for a while if you can drive." A confused grin. The road smoothed and we pulled away. Shortly after we stopped at the house of our hitch hiker so he could grab a couple of things. The boy caught up to us again and ran with us on the for as long as he could. Just before he disappeared as we rounded a bend we exchanged waves. Down to the river to camp and cool off. We had to pay 20 pesos to get on the rancher's land, and then another 30 pesos to get in to see the ruins. The ruins closed in 20 minutes, so we decided to camp out and see them in the morning. A nice dip in the river. We found an island in the middle of the river with a large pool on its far side. A jungle-adorned cliff rose from the water. There were non bugs or people. Swam a few laps and washed some clothes and myself--the third time using soap in Mexico! Crossing back and forth to the island was a puzzle of boulders and polished river rocks. On the way back I made it without touching the water once. I looked back to admire my route and the rock under my foot shifted and I fell in! Dinner was sautéed veggies in pasta with tomato sauce and goat cheese. Beer to wash it down of course. A few cookies for dessert. Mmmm. It's the hot season here in the tropics. I have to wear clothes to keep out the bugs, but even the slightest effort induces sweating. Hard to be a high-strung, stressed out American! Life has become a practice of maintaining calm, in thoughts and actions. Keep the mind active and alert, but the pulse down. Make moves, mentally and physically, smooth and efficient. I got up the next day as the sky changed from black to purple and snuck in to the ruins. It was a nice time to see the ruins and quite a different experience that the usual tourist mob you find at foreign archeological sites. I imagined playing the ball game in its stone walled court. After three days of play, my opponent scored, and I lost. I was carried through the plaza and its pulsing crowd of 7,000, then up to the top of the pyramid. The high priest raised his blade. It fell and my blood brought strength and fertility to my people. Whew! Time for breakfast! I climbed back down the pyramid and snuck out of the now eerily quiet and overgrown city. Back at camp the cows were moving in. I put down my favorite wool shirt so I could grab some dishes and food left out from dinner. One of the cows found my shirt and gave it a few green and slobbery chews before deciding it was a bit too fibrous. Damn! Got a few photos of the cows, though; a fine looking breed down here. Misjudged a rut on the way out and caught a rock on a rim and got a flat tire. Back up into the hills. We drove along the Rio Alseseca. It was described in our book and looked like fun. Turned out to be two miles of slides and falls, the highest about 20 feet. Best boating so far on the trip. One slide had a pillow of water in the middle of it making a jump! We portaged a couple of the uglier looking drops. Took out of the river and grinned and dried off. On to Villa Aldama, where we found Cecilia's cafe. She'd moved out to this small town high in the hills of Veracruz from Mexico City. She says it was destiny. She loves the mountain biking in the area. We stayed after dinner and talked with Cecilia and her friend, Mezael. We loaded up their bikes and they took us to a nice place to camp at the edge of the forest. We talked as the stars came out and the air cooled quickly. Cecilia asked me what I thought about September 11th. I was caught off guard and stumbled for a response. She interrupted and told me what she thought. In her halting but very good English she said something like this: "You must understand, (the Afghans) are a very poor and hungry people who live a very ugly life. You have so much and (the Afghans) feel ignored by the USA and you do not share enough with them." It was getting cold and late and our friends left. Mezael insisted on coming back in the morning to show us around his country a bit--he was born and raised in Villa Aldama. Good rest. Mezael arrived at the specified time. We loaded up his bike and headed out on 4x4 roads. We drove through what was left of the forest and stopped at a couple of vistas. On the way back we drove through a planted forest. The trees were evenly spaced and all about 30 feet tall. Mezael had helped to plant this forest when he was a boy. Next we passed half mile square pits--pumice mines. Mezael asked us if we thought it was ugly. He said this mineral was very important back in our country. An American company had come in, taken what it wanted, and scared up the land. Some Mexicans got low paying jobs to help dig it up, and some politicians got paid off to approve the mines, but the benefits to the local community were not apparent. We dropped Mezael off at his job--he is a security guard at a warehouse. We stopped at Cecilia's for breakfast and got on the road. Got gas and checked e-mail in Xalapa. Did some grocery shopping in Coatepec. Lots of strange things sold out of large burlap sacs-- from dried shrimp to dog food. On to Jalcomulco, the white water center of Mexico. Semana Santas (Easter break) was starting up and things were getting busy. Tents were be set up and it seemed everywhere we went people would say "All of Mexico comes here for Semana Santas." A local girl showed us a place to camp just outside of town, on the river under some mango trees. Went for a short paddle on the river near town. Low water but we worked the small waves, holes and eddy lines as hard as we could. Met a couple of local guys cleaning up the road out of town near our camp. They owned pieces of land further up and were excited to see the area grow in popularity. Some day they would build a hotel on their land, or sell it for a lot of money. For now, they just tended the jeep road up there and cared for the mangos and tamarind beans they grew. But they didn't say "mango" or "tamarindo"; they said "maaangooo" and "Taamaarindooo". Very laid back and casual, thoughtful. Things didn't usually happen too fast around them, but it was because they were aware of their surroundings and molded their lives to fit the natural rhythms of the land. They helped us find some fire wood and instructed their dog to stay near our camp for the night. The next day we paddled the Puente Pescado section, maybe class II+. Good to get out on the water and warmed up a bit. Shrimp baskets were on several rocks as we headed down the river. Locals bait them and put them down at night and collect the shrimp in the morning. Good food for the locals and they sell for a premium price at the local restaurants. Had lunch overlooking the river. It was hot, but the restaurant had several floor fans and surrounded ourselves with them. Took in the pre Semana Santas craziness. The boldest of the youth were jumping and diving off the 40 foot high bridge. Countless others were swimming and sun bathing. A couple of local kayakers were playing. We arranged a shuttle with Israel for early the next morning to run the Barranca Grande (Grand Canyon) section. Went back to camp. As it got dark, I strolled out to the river to bathe. All sorts of bugs and frogs and who knows what else were humming and buzzing and throbbing. As I crossed the flood plane, glints of green light flickered at me. At first I thought it was a flock of birds or fleet of rats on the rocks, but they were only fireflies. The humming, buzzing, throbbing got louder. It was totally dark now and I undressed to get in the water. I started to think about crocodiles. I heard a hissing noise. I was losing it! I packed it up and went to bed. We picked up Israel at 7 a.m. He grew up in Jalcomulco and is a raft guide and an avid kayaker. He feels lucky to have grow up in this town and have opportunities most places in Mexico do not. He is frustrated, though, because all the gear he gets is from foreigners traveling down here, and he cannot afford to travel with the money he makes. The Barranca Grande section is at least 20 miles long, so we got paddling. It took us 6 hours. Beautiful dry jungle canyon 1000 feet deep. Above the lower canyon is a fertile bench where bananas and sugar cane are grown, and then the canyon walls rise another 3000 feet. Fun class III+/IV rapids at this level. Would be fun to see at higher water. We surprised a few cows, horses, and shrimping Mexicans along the way, but basically had the place to ourselves. Took out before Israel arrived and had lunch at the "Restaurante Cielo Azul". Israel pulled up and we took him back to Jalcomulco. Bye-bye Veracruz, hello Oaxaca! |
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