Cascadas en Febrero

It's still technically winter in Jalisco, but the 85-degree temperatures are no cause to stop exploring. Guadalajara is nestled between the Sierra Madre Occidental and the Sierra Madre Sur- the crossroads of two great mountain ranges. There are rivers, canyons, and mountains around every corner and most of them are way off the beaten track. Yesterday I took a few friends to explore the Cascadas de Comala about two hours south of Guadalajara in the interior of Jalisco.

La segunda cascada

 We woke up at 6am. I grabbed my camera, tripod, bottle of water and we took off beating any sort of traffic out of town. The sun came up of the Sierra de Tapalpa as we headed south past the birthplace of Mariachi music, Cocula. Two hours late we had wound our way through several other pueblos to the tiny pueblito of Comala, Jalisco. From Comala we dropped down into the Canyon Aquetzalli to the Arroyo de Jalpa.

The Arroyo de Jalpa runs through the Canyon Aquetzalli from Jalpa past Comala and the waters eventually reach the Rio Armeria (a class IV/V multi-day trip). We parked by the largest of the 6 or so waterfalls in the canyon. From here we set out to the clear, cool waters further above.

La tercera cascada

La cueva

Past the third waterfall we came upon a series of stalactites forming on hanging firn plants. From here we swam through the tightest part of the canyon to the fourth waterfall. With no ropes we were stopped here. I'd like to come back with a canyoneering rope and equipment to descend from Jalpa to Comala.

Plenty of good jumping spots. The water is so clear it's easy to judge depth.

Saltando en la segunda cascada

The Expedition to the Rio Lacanja

10 minute YouTube video. Lots of footage from 2 GoPros, Nikon D5000, and a Kodak Playsport.

Tom roaring at the jungle covered Landeros Ruins

Google Earth image of the surrounding areas

The transcript of the video narration:

Our adventure began in San Cristóbal de Las Casas a day before the end of the Mayan Calendar on December 20th, 2012. We packed Alejandro’s van with a 14 foot NRS self-bailer and other expedition gear. From San Cristóbal we wound our way to Palenque where we met the expedition leader, Rocky Contos.

Rocky Contos has explored nearly every river in Mexico and has over 200 first descents in Mexico alone. He explored the Lacanjá in 2011 and this would be the first SierraRios.org expedition to make it’s way down the entire length of the river. From Palenque we headed east passing near the Bonampak ruins to reach the put in at the town of Lacanjá.

The turquoise waters of the Rio Lacanjá flow from the pristine jungle mountains in Eastern Chiapas near the border of El Petén in Guatemala.

A quick look at a satellite image of this region reveals nothing but green, green and more green with very few access points. This is one of few relatively untouched stretches of jungle left in Central America.

The Lacanja stretches nearly 90 kilometers dropping around 700 feet in that distance. Instead of a gradual change in elevation, it is concentrated in dozens of travertine limestone drops ranging from a class II to V.
 

Landeros Ruins

This was our white Christmas…

Although the river was filled with innumerable white water treats, there were a few hardships we had to endure in the jungles of southern mexico.

Some days we needed to use the saw and the machete to hack our way through vine covered passages that blocked our way on the river.

Ancient Mayan temples and cities lay in ruins alongside the river. It felt like we were the first explorers stumbling across the strange stone structures reclaimed by the jungle for the first time.

On Day 7 we arrived at the confluence with a much larger river, the Lacantún. We paddled another 20 kilometers to reach the first river beach we had seen in over a week. The full moon shone brightly as we set up our tents for the last time and said our goodbyes to our jungle adventure.

Saving Face

While travelling around Latin America (and other places in the world) I have commented a number of times on the general lack of geographical awareness locals seem to have in their area of residence. There have been several occasions driving around Mexico that I have chosen not to ask for directions. I have come to this point for the following two reasons:      1. People generally don’t know where things are. And if you get out the map, forget about it.      2. People want to ‘save face’. Meaning they don’t want to appear to be stupid, so they give you some sort of mumbled directions even if they should have quickly responded “I don’t know”.

And so I've learned that asking for directions in Mexico is not a straight forward process. Often to overcome this dilemma I will ask for the same set of directions a handful of times from different people. I have noticed patterns in age, occupation, etc. that increase the chance of receiving correct directions from someone.

Puerto Progreso, Yucatan, traveling with Tom and Taylor

Example:

Just yesterday, while wondering around the rainy lowland city of Villahermosa, Tabasco I had an opportunity for direction inquiries. I had no guidebook, no map, just wondering around downtown sipping coffee and petting stray dogs. At some point I decided I should check out a museum or two. I had glanced at a Google Earth map before heading out and I knew within a few blocks there was a regional history museum. I ducked into a shop selling a variety of cheap plastic goods to ask where this museum was located.

In the shop there were three attendants and no customers. “Buen dia,” I said, “conoces donde esta el museo de historia?” The girl closest to me was about 17 and she gave me a blank look as she finished hanging a set of plastic combs on a hook. I didn’t really expect her to know as 17-year-olds don’t know much about anything. She redirected the question to the two middle aged women sitting behind the cash register. They discussed the question for 30 seconds or so and finally came to the conclusion that they had no idea there was a museum in the neighborhood and no idea where it was.

I smiled, said thank-you, and walked out of the shop. By luck, as I turned the corner, I was immediately faced with a large blue colonial building with “Museo de Historia” inscribed in the bricks above the door. Of course the shop attendants had not been in the museum before…many people don’t visit the museums in their hometown. Museum visiting is something you do when you have ample amounts of free time to wonder aimlessly and not for someone economically obliged to work. However, I still find it incredibly interesting that you can spend hours, weeks, months… years in a shop and have so little idea of the buildings immediately surrounding you. At least they didn't give me false directions!

....

San Francisco de Campeche (Campeche), Campeche

Mural in front of Campeche

Comalcalco Ruins north of Villahermosa, Tabasco

The Rio Lacanja trip I had been planning for so long has finally come and gone. It was an unforgettable 8 days spent in the middle of pristine Chiapas jungle over the end of the Mayan calendar. We passed jungle covered ruins, crocodiles, multitudes of travertine waterfalls, and had to machete our way through vine covered passages. I have tons of video footage and I will be spending the next two days when I get back to Guadalajara compiling it into a 10-15 minute video. I can’t wait to get back!

The Deceptive Iztaccihuatl

Last Friday I left Guadalajara at 4pm after spending four days with 90 sixth graders at a camp outside of Guanajuato. I was tired, but I knew that one of the other two teacher/climbers would be able to drive the 7 hours to Mexico City. Scott and Swiggum were excited to have their second chance at a big mountain after last year on the Pico de Orizaba.

Iztaccihuatl from the Paso de Cortes

In D.F. (Distrito Federal a.k.a. Mexico City) we stayed in La Condessa, one of the hip neighborhoods. We enjoyed our last hours of civilization before driving from 7,500ft in D.F. up to 12,200ft. 12,200 ft is the elevation of the Paso de Cortes. In 1519 Hernan Cortes and his conquistadors crossed here between the volcanoes of Iztaccihuatl and Popocatepetl to get their first look at the lake of Tenochtitlan, the capital of the Aztec empire and soon to be capital of New Spain.

Sketch of the west side of Iztaccihuatl

Without anywhere to stay the nice people at the visitor center let us camp out for the next two nights on their floor for 2 dollars a night. We spent the next day acclimitizing to 12,000 ft and above by hiking around the foot hills of Iztaccihuatl, the Nahuatl word for 'white woman'. Iztaccihuatl looks like a sleeping woman from the west or east. In fact, the names of the climbing routes and features refer to the anatomy of the sleeping woman.

Sleeping in the visitor center at the Paso de Cortes (12,200ft)

On Monday morning we set out from La Joya (12,800ft) to the Refugio (a shelter built about 30 years ago by the Grupo de los Cien climbing club of D.F.). We carried all our food, water, sleeping supplies up to 15,500ft to stay the night with the plan of summitting the following day. As the night fell at the Refugio we ate tuna sandwiches for dinner and set up our sleeping bags in the silver lunch box shelter.

The Refugio 'El Grupo de los Cien' at 15,500ft

Ascending just outside of La Joya

Near the Portillo before Los Pies (the feet)

As soon as I laid down for sleep I began feeling signs of AMS (Acute Mountain Sickness). My head started pounding, my body was gripped with extreme nausea and spinning, and overall weakness. I knew that if we went down it meant the summit would be out of the picture for me and Scott and Swiggum. I also knew I couldn't risk going up any further. I laid there for another 2 hours and the symptoms continued to worsen. This was only the second time I had experienced AMS, the first time was on Mt. Hood 3 years ago.

At 9pm the decision was made to go down. We picked our way back down from the Refugio back down to La Joya using the light from our headlamps. Back down at 12,800ft I immediately began to feel better. We slept for 5 hours in the car and then descended down to the town of Amecameca at the base of the volcanoes.

We were tired and defeated. There was a sense of disappointment among us and I felt guilt for being the reason we had to descend. We checked into a hotel in Amecameca and began pondering our options. I had no intention of returning to Guadalajara being utterly defeated. So I threw out the idea of going for a single push for the summit on Thursday. The guys looked disgusted. We had just spent three restless nights up there. Scott, a intense athlete, responded that if we went up Wednesday, meaning no sleep at low altitude, he would do it.

View of Iztaccihuatl from our hotel in Amecameca

The decision was made that Scott and I would attempt a single push for the summit at 2am Wednesday morning. So we rested a couple hours in Amecameca and drove the Geo Prizm back up to La Joya for the night. That night we watched 'Lars and the Real Girl' on Scott's iPod before sleeping for five hours in the car again for our early morning wake up.

My watch alarm woke us up at 2am and we threw on our clothes and packs and started trudging up and waiting for the sun to hit us. We reached the Refugio at 15,500ft by 5am. The sky was still black and the stars shined brightly above the city lights from Mexico City to the west and Puebla off to the east. We gathered ourselves and then began the ascent of Las Rodillas (the knees). Las Rodillas was a time consuming class 2-3 rock climb to 16,300ft. Scott, having never done any rock climbing before, felt extremely exposed through this section.

Pico de Orizaba at sunrise

Popocatepetl erupting beyond the Paso de Cortes

The sun hit us about 20 minutes from the summit of Las Rodillas. Popocatepetl began throwing out puffs of black smoke as the sun lifted from behind Pico de Orizaba out in the distance. The orange sunrise gave us new energy as we arrived at the top of the knees and looked out at the arctic landscape in front of us.

Crossing the Glacier de Ayoloco

From Las Rodillas there are 3 hours of traversing, ascending, descending amongst snowy ridges, glaciers, and steep rock faces. We crossed La Barriga (the belly) which contained the melting Glacier de Ayoloco. The mix of climbing forced us to put-on and take-off our crampons 3 times before attaining the summit ridge (La Arista del Sol) near 17,000ft. The summit (17,180ft) turned out to be a snow bowl with three separate 'summits'. We picked the one that appeared to be a meter or two taller than the others and lethargically trudged onwards.

The summit (17,180ft), El Pecho (the breast), third tallest mountain in Mexico (Orizaba is tallest, Popocatepetl is second)

At the summit we snapped a couple photos, hugged, and then began the long descent back. As we came back down Las Rodillas the clouds began rolling in from the east like clockwork at noon. We carefully worked our way down the section traversing Los Pies (the feet) and back down to La Joya. We reached the car at 3pm, making the entire day a 12.5 hour day with very few breaks.

Scott and Sam at summit overlooking La Cabeza (the head)

A 3.5 minute video from climbing Iztaccihuatl: YouTube link for Iztaccihuatl from Guadalajara

E=mc2 for Dia de los Muertos

Sugar Skeletons

Just got back from an eventful and interesting Day of the Dead in Patzcuaro, Michoacan. The distinctly Mexican holiday has been taking place in Patzcuaro for 100s of years. The night we arrived (November 1st) we headed out to Janitzio, the island town in the middle of Lake Patzcuaro. I was expecting a sobering procession of grieving and honoring the dead. What we found instead was a big Mexican fiesta, complete with tequila, beers, jarros locos, and plenty of delicious food. At first I thought that this was completely disrespectful to the dead people. Slowly I began to realize that the fiesta was the tradition to honor and celebrate the dead.

Candles on Janitzio

The island and cemeteries in and around Patzcuaro were packed with people. A few were adorning graves with colorful flower displays and pan de los muertos. Most were armed with cameras taking photos of the process. It was difficult to walk without stepping on graves. The party went on and on until the morning. Even at our campsite outside the city we could find no peace as music blasted until 7am.

Catrina Dolls

Church in Patzcuaro

My school celebrated both Halloween and Dia de los Muertos together on November 1st. I've never seen such a huge Halloween party. All the grades (K through 12) were in costume and parents came to school to watch a parade. In every classroom the 'room mothers' set up elaborate spreads of festive food for the kids and teachers to eat. All in all a very fun day.

Albert Einstein- "I miss my beard!"

Back to School

The start of another school year has come and gone. I feel like I've already been teaching for months. The new 6th graders are fantastic and now I get to just be friends with the 7th graders. And with the beginning of each year comes the middle school movie. This year I was caste for one of the major roles- a teacher/rock star. The director put in over 100 hours all while completing the duties of an 8th grade social studies teacher... very impressive!

Enjoy! Click on the link:

Middle School Rock and Roll
The password is black.

The San Juan Cathedral. The last thing standing in the wake of the 1941
birth of Volcan de Paricutan in the mountainous state of Michoacan.

Descending into the lava filled church.

October 6, 2012 Ascending the 9,186ft high Volcan de Paricutin.

A total of 7 hours on horseback in order to reach the Volcan. My
lower back and gluts have never been so sore.

Cheran, Michoacan. My friend, Scott, is shooting a photo story here. The town finally had enough when they tried to stop clear-cutting in their forests. The police and federales initially did nothing to help, and the narcos, 'La Familia', were supporting the clear cutters. So the townspeople kicked out the narcos and the police, took their weapons, set up barricades at every entrance and said, "fine, we're going to do things our own way." An inspiration to all of Mexico.

Una fiesta en Cheran, Michoacan.

At the summit of the Nevado de Colima again 4340m (14,240ft)
September 29, 2012, my friend Charlotte's birthday.

Attack of the Ticks

 School is nearly out; the tiniest faint light is beginning to appear at the furthest end of the tunnel. The kids think the light is right in front of them... and we're still 5 weeks away. That's a long time with 105 checked-out 12-year-olds. I've been doing as much student led activities as possible. Right now were designing simple machines using Google SketchUp in the computer labs. They love and I get to feel like I'm in the middle of an Architecture studio running around.

 Pinta the puppy

Another fine weekend relaxing at the beach. Two friends and I camped out on one of our favorite (not as much anymore) surf spots. La Caleta is a inhabitantless beach a fifteen-minute boat ride from the nearest town. Except for one old man who has lived there alone for 40 years. From what we gather, he was fed up with life in his hometown of Las Varas and packed up and moved to a deserted beach.

La Caleta on a better weekend---

This past weekend there happened to be some of the smallest, slowest waves we'd seen in a while, so we lounged around the beach with the puppies and chickens that belonged to Juan (the hermit). After a day of PB&J we decided to explore a trail that led to nearby Chacala. Juan informed us that the walk took about an hour. The sound of a juicy steak burrito could not be resisted.

We took of down the trail sweating as the jungle sun beat down through the canopy. I was sweating profusely and attracting all kinds of bug life. I batted at mosquitoes with my shirt while trying to fan myself at the same time. This hike seemed to be taking forever and was becoming increasingly uncomfortable. Was this really worth a burrito I thought? It was at this moment that I glanced down at my itchy legs to see what appeared to be freckles. I stopped to find that the luckily I hadn't grown new freckles, but instead was covered in ticks. Probably over a hundred of them were swarming up my legs and underneath my swim trunks.

I screamed out to my friends and they stopped to find themselves in the same predicament. The three of us stopped dropped our shorts where we were and began the process of removing every tick we could see. All the while I was hopping around yelling in discomfort and terror. We removed a good 50 each and then ran towards town and the ocean. I sprinted through all the people into the Pacific hoping the ticks would drown.

They didn't. We sat down for burritos and spent the next hour removing and killing ticks. Now I'm just hoping there's no crazy tick diseases down here.

A video test for my new 1st person camera at La Ticla, in Michoacan