The oak forest rose steeply... we really had to work at the little steps... we were really gasping at the rest points. The earth was scattered with thick, brown, brittle leaves... increasingly damp... we ascended the dead volcanoe to the edge of a cloud forest... air humid, sweaty, moist. Upon the thin oak trees... a plethora of mosses... thick green carpets... grey, hanging wigs... textures clinging, dangling, creeping. Upon the branches... a variety of spidery growths... green, red, pink... occassionally sprouting an alien tentacle... the things were just nestled there... like giant agaves or pineapples. In and around it all... ferns, grasses and fungi. We sat a while at the top of the dead volcano... listening to the odd rustle and snap. Then we descended, left the reserve, caught a collectivo back into town. We exited out into the chaos of the market... minibuses arriving from all sides... people moving and crossing with giant bundles... in hand, on head. The indigenas lined the pavement with bright shawls and buckets of oranges.
Zoomat
We caught the bus to Tuxtla... the sickening turns and low-grade Mexican music. The city was a heaving, noisy hive... perpetual noise, movement, traffic, smog. We caught a taxi to Zoomat... an ecologically designed zoo containing local fauna... took in some exotic beasts... cats large and small, rodents, manifold birds... toucans, macaws, eagles, owls. There were a pair of Quetzals too... rare by all accounts, singular in captivity... hues of bright and shiney green... funky and fuzzy haircuts... long and graceful tail feathers. The most exciting spot was large, escaped rodent... it went hoping throught the banks by the path. We observed the creatures and caught a cramped minibus back into town. It took a long way in... rising a hill above the city... stopping at the prison.
Sumidero Canyon
The men wore busy wigs... blond afros... blue-eyed, pale-skinned and slightly gormless masks. Their attire had vaguely Arabic pretensions... baggy trousers, often striped or shiney... they wore colourful blankets like capes. The women were clad in black, Spanish dresses... adorned all over with blazing flower motifs. They all formed into a procession... behind an icon and several large flags. The men waved rattles and shouted... fireworks went off, confetti scattered. Chiapa de Corzo's January fiesta was well under way.
The bus hit the procession and could go no further. We all filed out by the main plaza... they'd set up a fairground with stalls and rides. After watching the procession... the general drunkeness, festivity, party... we headed down to the river. In 1981 a hydroelectric dam converted the body into a reservoir... it runs 25km through a canyon... motorboats ferry tourists up and down.
We waited a while for people to arrive... for places to fill. Then we were all kitted out in life jackets... Katriona and I took seats at the back. The boat moved off slowly but quickly gathered speed... slosh and spray flying everywhere... it got me in the face, came splashing down my back. We passed under a tall metal bridge... continued past pale, gentle banks settled by a large community of vultures. The palm trees, folliage... posing white herons. The canyon came and towered 800m high... steep vertical walls... grey, cracked humbling... a variety of layers, splits, patterns and vegetation... sometimes cacti, sometimes shrubs. Our path wound through the immense corridor... each turn revealed an even greater structure... an ever higer facade. The driver would occassionally stop... point out some or other feature. He'd creep slowly towards the bank... frozen crocodiles amid washed up straw and branches. Then an enormous cave with dripping pink stalactite... a shrine set up with candles and the virgin. The most bizarre was the 'Christmas Tree'... mossy overhangs like giant fungi... ascending to the point of a triangle... green and dripping from the top downward. The canyon ended and opened onto almost Gaellic pastures... we saw the ugly dam and then we returned... speeding through the enormous passage.
We left the boat quite wobbly... I was pretty soaked too. We had a wander through the fairground... past vendors of liquor and deep fried foods. We made the hike to the edge of town... up hilly streets draped in colourful bunting... firecrackers exploding intermittently. It was dark when we reached the petrol station, the bus stop. The ride home was quiet.