The big journey

You've had the stats, now I'll tell you what it was like.
We said good-bye to Sofia's parents in Mexico City - it was emotional and I realised how much I had become part of the family in the previous 6 months. We headed off very excited. I lost all of the photos from the camera, so I'm obliged to wax lyrical in places, it's our only record of one of the most exciting things we've done.

The roads were easy - but then we paid the tolls to get better roads.
A flash flood after lunch in Puebla didn't pose any problems - the Ford Ranger being a truck has a raised axle. Once we reached Veracruz around 5pm we climbed steadily with clouds to the left obscuring the Pico de Orizaba, a volcano of classic conical form which often has a snow cap. What a disappointment not to see it for the clouds! Just as the sun set over the mountains, we set up the tent at Rancho Cortijo, just outside the little town of Rio Blanco. The rancho consisted of a series of quite majestic ornamental gardens, with fine old tress and some lovely artificial waterfalls. We already felt far from the old D.F. (the de effe or Federal District of Mexico City). Day two was a slog, but it had its moments. On a flat duel carriage in the middle of nowhere we encountered an ocean-going yacht nearly two lanes wide at deck level. The lorry carrying it had reached a bridge and it wouldn't fit. I suppose it would have had to have headed all the way back to the Pacific coast and sail round to the Panama Canel, what else could it do? (Also how the hell did it get there without hitting other bridges??).

So we turned up the volume on the I-Pod to pass the time. We were somewhere into a very mashed up Shiny Disco Balls when "Straight out of Barkin'" - popped up the DJ's voice , in fact none other than Collins 303 (free o' free). Barking in the tropics, that's nice I thought. We then got stuck in traffic, also in the middle of nowhere, only to find it was caused by a 55 seat bus turned on it's side (how that happened on such a straight road I cannot imagine). We passed a billboard "Aqui nace la electricidad que ilumina tu hogar" (The electricity which lights your home was born here" - parented (?) by a wind turbine). We were in the narrowest part of Mexico, the Isthmus of Tehuantepec, which is naturally the windiest part of Mexico. "DJing for his life.... the boy" Collins 303 gives some respect to his mate Gerry's furious beat-matching of one tune over another. I have to admit to being in ecstasy listening to the mix but a few tracks later Sofia cut me down with: "Turn it up, it's getting a bit boring". "You're kidding" I thought - Collins 303, Country Cockney (Gerry) and scratch artist Legend all going ape-shit on their "Five Deck Wreck". Well Sofia did at least admit she'd never heard a better mix of Shiny Disco Balls - which was once her tune, but that's another story. We then passed a semi-articulated lorry turned on its side in the ditch between the two carriageways, a bit sobering. We passed a great many flood barriers, as the state of Tabasco seems to have the majority of the country's flood plains and eventually took the right turn to Palenque and saw a ridge of hills over to the right - where we would find the ruins the following day. We camped in a hippy tourist place just outside the national park where the ruins are and located ourselves with an assorted group of South American "crusties" who performed dance and juggling routines for a nearby bar/ restaurant. Most seemed to have stripy trousers and the women had abundant under-arm hair.

Palenque
Now this is a precious place. The ruins are half way up the jungle clad hillside with superb views over the flatter lands. While the stone is too soft to have preserved many carvings, the steep sided pyramidal shapes and clusters of ceremonial buildings are powerful reminders of the ancient Mayan culture. There are temples and the usual ball park. Apparently the captain of the winning team would give himself in human sacrifice. Are you listening David Beckham? My favourite buildings were those highest up the hill, including one partially out of bounds in the jungle with stelae and various niches. The greatest surprise is the waterfalls down the far side of the site with huge trees, their roots stretching down into pools of crystal clear water. I wondered whether the water was so pure in the middle of a Maya city in ancient times.

Later we went to the Cascadas Aguazul (waterfalls) another 40 km south. On the way we passed great tracts of land being cleared by fire. It was an eerie sight as smoke crossed the high winding road and then cleared as a new vista unfolded round the corner. After the surprise had settled we realised that there were plumes of smoke on all sides and far into the distance. We stopped to ask a group of women why they were burning the forest. "To grow maize" was the answer. It was shocking to see smouldering stumps where there was once a beautiful mass of plant and animal life. "Where will the jaguars live now?" was the question on our lips. It's hard to tell people not to grow food, particularly in one of the poorest Mexican states where the average income is not much more than $2,000 USD a year. On the other hand we are all the poorer for their actions.

Poverty was thrust in our face round another bend in the road. A girl raised a rope with little red flags across the road and we were mobbed by women and children putting their faces to the window trying to sell us foods. We did not lower the windows. As we left a child threw water over the truck.

As we got to the Cascadas Aguazul we paid an entry fee to the area. Then we got to a second barrier, more fees! An informal tax no different in principle to the women and children back on the road. When we were there we were pressed to buy more bananas and stuff. The attitude of the people was oppressive and we turned tail and found a 100 foot waterfall at Misol Ha without any of the rubbish and Sofia and I had a delicious swim.

As we left the area, I photographed a sign which said we were in Zapatista territory. When in Chiapas just over a month before we had asked around about the Zapatistas, and there were stories of accidentally running over a dog in a remote village and getting mobbed for money and various other menaces. At the same time the rural guerrillas, paradoxically seem to be great for tourism. You can buy little Zapatista toys - crude wood and black cloth figures with a rough carved AK47. Also photos. After my first visit we got onto the web and Sofia pointed out some Zapatista news: apparently the Zapatista Sub-Commandante Marcos had issued a press release saying he fancies Angelina Jolie. What the fuck? My overall impression was of a very screwed-up situation. It is obviously not "hot" as the FARC in Colombia - presumably because there are no drugs involved - but there seemed to be a sad, brewing discontentment among the indigenous people. All the sadder because the nature in Chiapas is among the most magnificent I have witnessed.

We had an easy drive the final 500km to Bacalar and pulled up in Cocalitos campsite on the shore of the laguna. We were delighted to be "home" the place we planned to establish our new married lives. Yet we only had a camping tent to live in, a few clothes and tupperware stuff to eat from. The fridge and washing machine, other wedding gifts and all our clobber were waiting for us to get an address to deliver to. I had previously joked to one or two friends and family that we would arrive just in time for the hurricane season. But you should never really joke about such things...