The Rio Grijalva and the Oldest Spanish City in Chiapas State
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| Mexico |
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| State of Chiapas |
On another chilly San Cristóbal morning we set off with Al and his driver heading for a boat trip through the Sumidero Canyon. As we descended towards Tuxtla Gutiérrez, mist sometimes swirled around the toll road, sometimes blanketed the valleys below, but the boat station on the Rio Grijalva was almost 2000m lower than San Cristóbal and we confidently expected proper tropical temperatures to reassert themselves.
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| On a map of this scale, these events take place ever so slightly west of San Cristobal de las Casas in Mexico's bottom right hand corner (as geographers call it) |
The Sumidero Canyon
The mist had indeed evaporated and the sky was blue by the time we reached the river…
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| Boat station on the Rio Grijalva |
…. but Lynne did not yet judge it warm enough to remove her sweater.
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| Waiting for a boat by the Rio Grijalva |
After a short wait we joined a mixed group of Mexicans, Americans, Israelis and Slovenes (and, very possibly, others) aboard a speed boat that followed the river west then north under the Panamerican Highway and into the Sumidero Canyon.
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| The bridge and the entrance to the Sumidero Canyon |
It may have been warm by now, but zipping along the surface of the water the cool and occasionally damp wind kept the temperature down.
We were not far beyond the bridge when the speed suddenly slackened and we swung right towards the bank. The driver sitting on
an elevated gantry at the stern had spotted something. ‘Crocodile,’ he said.
Lynne had a better view of the beast than I did, but Señor Croc was not interested
in visitors and waddled off into the vegetation. I am not proud of my photo, I have
the arm of the man next to me in better focus than the partly hidden reptile,
but there is a clear tail on the beaten earth and a body can be made out through
the grass. American Crocodiles range from the southern tip of Florida down to
Peru and Venezuela, in both salt and fresh water, with the average male around
4.5m in length and females a little smaller. Scary beasts.
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| American crocodile, just about, Sumidero Canyon |
I prefer my photo of a heron which briefly accompanied us.
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| I am fairly confident it is a heron, but it could be any one of several species |
We sped along for a while, deeper into the canyon…
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| Deeper into the Sumidero Canyon |
…the walls becoming higher, the defile narrower and the bends sometimes as much as 90°. 13km long, the canyon is between 1 and 2km wide with often vertical walls mostly between 200 and 700m high, though reaching as high as 1,000m.
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| The Sumidero Canyon |
Spider Monkeys
Again the boat slowed and turned towards the bank. This time the driver had spotted a group of spider monkeys. Much friendlier characters than the crocodile, one came to have a good look at us…
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| Mexican Spider Monkey, Sumidero Canyon |
…demonstrated his skills…
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| Mexican spider monkey, Sumidero Canyon |
…then, to show he was completely at ease, he sat on a boulder and had a snack. Despite their enormously long limbs and tail, there are moments when they look disturbingly human.
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| Mexican spider Monkey, Sumidero Canyon |
There are seven species of spider monkeys, all living in Mexico, Central America and the northern third of South America. I am fairly confident this is a Mexican Spider Monkey (a subspecies of Geoffrey’s Spider Monkey) and not just because we were in Mexico. They are critically endangered, loss of habitat having caused an 80% population decrease in the last 45 years, but in the 200km² Sumidero Canyon National Park they should (provided the law is enforced) be able to live unthreatened by human activity.
For a while we enjoyed the cool breeze..
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| Really enjoying the cool breeze, Sumidero Canyon |
…but then noticed our way seemed to be barred.
A Garbage Slick in the Rio Grijalva
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| Something bars our way, Sumidero Canyon |
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| Rubbish slick on the Rio Grijalva. |
La Cueva de Colores
The driver carefully nosed the boat through the debris and soon the river was back to its pleasant self. Ten minutes later we reached the Cueva de Colores (Cave of Colours) one of several small caves in the rock wall. The Virgin of Guadalupe looks after the cave and is usually surrounded by fresh flowers and lighted candles.
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| The Virgin of Guadalupe, Cuerva de Colores, Sumidero Canyon |
The actual colours, reds, greens and pinks from minerals in the rock are less than vivid, but they are visible, just.
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| The underwhelming colours, Cueva de Colores, Sumidero Canyon |
As we saw at the Maling Gorge in southwest China, streams tumbling over the edge of the canyon leave their minerals in the foliage below which gradually turns to stone. As he guided the boat through the falling mist – waterfall would seriously overstate it – the driver assured us that a little bespattering would ensure longevity. Staying even longer offers immortality through petrification.
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| Falling spray and petrified vegetation, Sumidero Canyon |
Lake Chicoasén
After the ‘waterfalls’ the river widened, the rock walls became lower and we emerged from the canyon and its national park into Lake Chicoasén.
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| Into Lake Chicoasén |
The lake is formed by Chicoasén Dam (officially the Manuel Moreno Torres Dam) and it was only when I found the dam was not towering above us that I realised we had been travelling downstream. As we reached the Rio Grijalva by descending the southern edge of the massif from San Cristóbal, the river must obviously be making for the Pacific coast, but the obvious is not always true. There are more highlands to the south where the Grijalva rises and flows down their northern flank, before exploiting a crack in the area’s crust to create the Sumidero Canyon on its way to the Gulf of Mexico.
The dam, built between 1974 and 1980, is an earth-filled embankment dam, with Mexico’s largest hydroelectric station on its downstream side.
Concrete arch dams always look more impressive, but at 261m the Chicoasén is
actually the tallest in North America. Beside the dam is a statue dedicated to
the workers who built it.
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| Approaching the Chicoasén Dam |
We paused to admire the pelicans decorating the floating oil drums, turned and headed back south.
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| Pelicans, Lake Chicoasén |
Michelada
As we departed a smaller boat drew alongside bearing two enterprising young men and a supply of cold drinks. I mentioned michelada when we saw it on sale at Teotihuacan; now seemed the moment to try it. Invented only in the 1960s, michelada was originally beer with salt,
lime and chilli sauce but now all sorts of things may be added. Stacks of plastic
glasses had been prepared with salted rims and three fingers of red liquid in
the base. I watched the young man empty a can of beer into it and hand it to me.
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| Michelada salesman, Lake Chicoasén |
Apart from beer I am uncertain what was in it, a little chilli probably and other flavours I did not recognise and did not particularly like. Lynne had a sip and grimaced; the photo shows I drank most of it, but what remains in the glass went into the lake (sorry fish). Like everyone my age I tried lager and lime in the late sixties, but thus forewarned eschewed the short-lived 80s fashion for Mexican beer with a slice of lime rammed in the neck. Fifty years of drinking experience have taught me this simple truth: if you think your beer would be improved by putting something else in it, buy better beer. And why put salt round the rim of the glass? How does that improve anything?
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| I do't know why I am holding the glass up like that, my next action was to dump the contents into the lake Michelada, Lake Chicoasén |
Our return journey was swift and unremarkable, apart from when the motor spluttered to a halt amid the rubbish, fortunately the boat was equipped with an emergency fuel can. I was no less appalled by the slick on the way back so here is another picture. I asked why no one cleared it up and received two answers: 1) it is always cleared at the end of the rainy season – but the rainy season is already over - and 2) they used to but found it too expensive. Can I respectfully suggest to the relevant authorities that they get their arses in gear and sort this out! (A lesser man would have resorted to caps lock there).
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| That rubbish slick again, Sumidero Canyon |
Having dumped the latter part of my drink in the lake I disposed of the glass as responsibly as I could on my return. I cannot guarantee it did not end up back in the river.
Chiapa de Corzo
When the town of Chiapa de Corzo, a few minutes from the boat station, was founded in 1528 it was the first Spanish city in Chiapas State, though the site has been occupied since 1400 BCE.
Chiapa de Corzo’s Fiesta
Grande de Enero (Great January Festival) honours the local patron saints
and was first held in 1599. The highlight is the Dance of the Parachicos, who
wear elaborate headdresses and carved wooden masks. To ensure even November
visitors are aware of this a parachico statue stands at the town’s entrance.
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| Parachico, Chiapa de Corzo |
The locals boast that their zócalo (main square) is bigger than Mexico City’s.
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| The Zócalo, Chiapa de Corzo |
We enjoyed the unaccustomed warmth as we strolled through the relaxed streets…
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| Chiapa de Corzo |
…and toured the shops in the 18th century portales.
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| The Portales, Chiapa de Corzo |
On the edge of the zócalo is a huge and aged kapok tree, allegedly the very tree under which the Spanish founded the town, and…
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| Me (left) and the aged kapok tree (right), Chiapa de Corzo |
...and in the centre is La Pila, a Moorish-style fountain and occasional watchtower built in 1562.
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| La Pila, Chiapa de Corzo |
Back to San Cristóbal
In yesterday’s San Cristóbal post I noted Al’s comments that although many indigenous peoples have real grievances, they go about solving them the wrong way, and the authorities reactions are equally inept. We found that the toll gate on the highway had been taken over by such a group and they were collecting the tolls for themselves. The police were nowhere to be seen, so our driver shrugged, paid and covered his transponder so he did not pay twice.
Back in San Cristóbal it was too late for lunch so we lingered in a coffee shop before taking a walk past a market and interesting sweetshop….
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| Sweetshop, San Cristóbal de las Casas |
…to the Iglesia del Carmen. I am sure we photographed the 17th century church, the earthquake cracked tower and the adjacent (now closed) convent but although I do not remember deleting them I have no photos now. Strange. In 1993 an electrical fault caused a major fire in the church. According to the story (which may or may not be true) the fire was put out and the nuns settled down for the night, then some bright spark turned the electricity back on. This time the church was gutted.
In the restored but plain interior a service was in progress. There was a small congregation but no priest, the service being conducted by a
recording with pauses left for the responses.
As usual the temperature plummeted even before night fell. Again we ate in the Italian restaurant seated by the pizza oven, I had
had enough pasta, but it was the only place we could eat without shivering.
I became quite fond of michelada while living in Mexico, but, yes, the quality varied a lot. I always ordered one when only low quality beer was available. Negra Modelo, for example, should not be wasted in micheladas, in my opinion. :)
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