Tuesday 28 November 2017

San Cristóbal to Palenque via Toniná: Part 9 of South East from Mexico City

A Magnificent Mayan Site and an Incident Packed Drive to the Caribbean Coast

Mexico

Leaving San Cristóbal de las Casas

We were up so early for our 220km journey north to Palenque that we had to rouse a member of staff to unlock the front door and let us out into the dark, cold morning.

Lynne outside the Hotel Cuidad Real at 5.55 in the morning, San Cristobal de las Casas

Al and his driver Freddy were on time, but our packed breakfast was not. Al chased up the hotel kitchen while we hung around shivering. During the drive we would drop from San Cristóbal’s 2,200m to a mere 60m, so this was, we hoped our last cold morning.

Early morning in the park opposite our hotel, San Cristobal de las Casas

We set off a little after 6.00; the driving would take 4¾ hour, but with things to see on the way - and the possibility of unscheduled stops - it would take far longer, and then Al and Freddy had to drive back.

We travel north from San Cristobal de las Casas to Palenque across Chiapas, Mexico's most southeasterly state

Some Problems on the Road to Ocosingo

The road wound across the plateau, occasionally giving us views down into cloud filled valleys.

Looking down on a cloud filled valley outside San Cristobal

It was slow going, the twists and turns and the recent earthquakes’ legacy of landslips and sudden dips had to be negotiated carefully and then there were the traffic calming measures. We passed through no settlements for the first forty minutes, but there were many buildings alongside the road and at each one a narrow ridge of tarmac ran across the highway. Hitting them at speed was uncomfortable.

A school beside the highway as dawn breaks outside San Cristobal

[These were not the only dangers. On April the 19th 2018 two cyclists, one German, one Polish, riding from San Cristobal to Palenque were robbed and murdered outside San Cristobal, their bodies and bikes thrown over a cliff to make it look like an accident. Mexico had 31,174 homicides in 2017, 25 per 100,000 inhabitants compared with 17 in the USA and 1.2 in the UK.]

A Roadblock at Oxchuc

After and hour and a quarter we reached the small town of Oxchuc and joined a line of stationary traffic.

Coming to a halt in Oxchuc

‘Roadblock,’ Al told us. This, I have learned, is not unusual in Oxchuc, sometimes the road is closed for 12 hours or more. As we waited a man knocked on the window, Freddy opened it a crack and the man pushed through a leaflet explaining the peoples' grievance: in short, the government were not providing necessary financial support for the community, so they were gathering it themselves.

The cone at one end of the roadblock, Oxchuc

Two policemen sat in their car, watching. ‘They are corrupt,’ Al said. ‘The new mayor promised to end corruption and they burnt her house down.’ The Mexico News Daily, 9th of January 2016 has a different story. The mayor was (probably justly) accused of corruption and an angry mob rampaging through the streets set fire to her house, among much else. They also torched a tourist bus; the American/Canadian tourists were not harmed but it must have been alarming.

Our encounter ended quickly and without conflagration. After ten minutes, leaflet man returned, demanding 100 pesos (£4) from each car. We paid, the cones vanished and it was over.

A little further on Freddy recognised the car in front as being from his company. He flashed his lights, both cars stopped and there was a consultation and some phone calls. They weighed the probable delays (and possible dangers) of continuing against returning to San Cristóbal and taking the alternative route which would add three hours to an already long day.

We went on - they had the local knowledge so we accepted their decision. For the next hour nothing happened so we ate our breakfast and had a nap.

A Roadblock at Cuxulja

At Cuxulja we encountered a second roadblock. They claimed a villager had been unfairly dismissed from the Coca Cola plant in nearby Ocosingo and denied compensation - and if Coke would not pay up then we had to. At Oxchuc the approach had been polite, the roadblock a line of plastic cones; here a plank bristling with nails had been dragged across the road and a crowd of men milled around, some with baseball bats, others with police nightsticks and one or two with machetes. The situation was uncomfortable and drawing attention to ourselves by taking photos seemed foolish, so we didn't. Al and Freddy looked irritated, but not frightened, which was reassuring. We waited and eventually there was a knock on the window and another request for 100 pesos. We paid, the plank was hauled clear and we were relieved to move on.

A Welcome Coffee Break then down to Ocosingo

We stopped again before Ocosingo, but this time voluntarily. Freddy pulled into a service area where he and Al had breakfast and we drank coffee.

The service station above Ocosingo (it does not look much like Newport Pagnell!)

Afterwards a short stroll led to a view over Ocosingo lying in the valley below.

Ocosingo down in the valley

Ocosingo, is a town with a reputation for roadblocks and awkwardness, but all was sweetness and light as we drove through.

The Zapatista Army of National Liberation

In 1994 The Zapatista Army of National Liberation (EZLN) declared war on the Mexican establishment. A vaguely Libertarian-Socialist movement, the Zapatistas drew support mainly from Mexico's southern states and particularly the indigenous peoples of Chiapas. The EZLN immediately occupied several Chiapan cities, notably San Cristóbal, withdrawing as the Mexican army arrived from everywhere except Ocosingo, where dozens died in days of fighting. The EZLN have since concentrated on civil disobedience rather than violence and have recently flirted with mainstream politics. They still control much of rural Chiapas – which may be relevant to our difficulties.

The last few paragraphs have featured murder, mayhem, civil disobedience and armed insurrection. It is only fair to add that the vast majority of Mexicans we encountered were decent, honourable people. Polite, calm and tolerant they treated each other with respect and consideration and offered us friendship and fairness. We encountered no aggressive begging, and Mexico is not a country with a scam merchant on every corner… but a dark side does exist.

Toniná

A side road took us the 12km from Ocosingo to the Mayan site of Toniná.

Toniná from a distance

Toniná was a city state of the Mesoamerican Classic Period (200-900 AD). Most of the Early Classic structure was built over later, but the site is rich in Late Classical stucco sculptures, monuments and inscriptions. Between the 6th and early 10th century Toniná was aggressive in its struggle for dominance over its neighbours, most notably Palenque, 130km to the north, and inscriptions in Mayan hieroglyphics give the names and dates of most of the rulers of this period. One inscription bears a date in the Mayan Long Count Calendar equivalent to the 15th of January 909, the latest date of any Mayan inscription so far discovered.

We paused beyond the car park to examine a stone model. It shows Toniná sitting on a 6ha platform, the ‘acropolis’ at its northern end having seven terraces partly set into a hillside and climbing 71 metres above the platform.

A model of Toniná with an EZNL poster in the background

I did not notice that I had also photographed an EZNL banner behind the model. Beneath the slogan Libertad Justicia Dignidad are images of Emiliano Zapata, Che Guevara and Subcomandante Marcos, the EZNL leader shown in typical pose smoking his pipe through a hole in his mask. The rest of the words are largely obscured by reflections, but it was a reminder about who is in charge here.

Walking down to the entrance Al commented on the fences beside the path. ‘They should not be here,’ he said. 'The national park is open to everyone.’ We were already aware that Al had little respect for his indigenous fellow countrymen and the sight of a dwelling being built inside the fence provoked a rant about indigenous people ignoring the law and no one doing anything about it. He never mentioned the Zapatistas, either not wanting to acknowledge the insurgency, or deciding we were better left in ignorance, so the point he never made was that it was the Mexican government’s national park not the Zapatistas; this was EZNL territory and their support came from the indigenous people.

We eventually reached the platform. Beside it is a sunken ballcourt built, according to inscriptions, in 699 by K'inich B'aaknal Chaak to mark three victories over Palenque. Nobody knows how the game was played on the I-shaped court, but surviving indigenous games involving nudging a ball with hip and shoulder.

The ballcourt, Toniná

Bound prisoners of war are a frequent motif at Toniná and the ballcourt features half a dozen captured vassals of Palenque’s ruler.

Bound captive ballcourt, Toniná

Yax Ahk (Green Turtle) is the only one known by name.

Bound captive, ballcourt, Toniná

Some say the losers of the game were sacrificed to the gods, some say the winners (which can’t have done much for the quality of play), but maybe nobody was sacrificed. Whatever the truth the ballplayers had a better outlook than Yax Akh and his unfortunate friends.

We climbed out of the ballcourt and onto the platform.

Standing on the platform with the 'acropolis' behind

The steps up to the first and second levels are narrow and uneven but not difficult. The entrances to the Palace of the Underworld on level 2….

The entrance to the Palace of the Underworld, Toniná

…led to a series of narrow passages with a definite underworld feel. The passage roofs and entrances have a stepped arrangement topped by a lintel; the builders having not quite developed a true arch, but working towards it.

Inside the Palace of the Underworld, Toniná

The Palace of the Frets is on level 4…

Palace of the Frets, Toniná

…with a throne-like seat (and a ‘no sitting’ sign).

'Throne', Palace of the Frets, Toniná

The ‘frets’ are brickwork decorations to the left of the throne. The central X-shape may refer to Kukulkan, the Feathered Serpent, or to the Sacred Mountain, or to something else. Some stucco decoration survives top left of the X which, gives a clue as to how it must once have looked but we can only imagine the colours. The sign at the bottom says no climbing. I would have preferred some informative signs around the site, Al knew his way about but he could not be a specialist on everything.

The frets, Palace of the Frets, Toniná

There is a lot on level 5, another ‘palace’ of sorts…

A room of unknown purpose, Level 5, Toniná

…a view over the Palace of the Frets…

Looking over the Palace of Frets, Toniná

…a lot of stucco in sheltered spots…

Stucco, Level 5, Toniná
More stucco, Level 5, Toniná

….and a mysterious plaque on the ground.

Plaque, Level 5, Toniná

Lynne looked at the steep steps to level 6 and shook her head but Al knew a longer way round that avoided them. Lynne was happy to reach level 6…

Lynne on Level 6, Toniná

…but access to the final level was only possible by high, steep and narrow steps. I climbed them on my own.

I proceed carefully up to Level 7, Toniná

The top two levels were the only place on the whole site where we encountered other visitors. Those of us on the top congratulated each other for having made it and enjoyed the spectacular view….

The view across Toniná and beyond from Level 7

…and I looked down on Al and Lynne.

Looking down on Al and Lynne from Level 7, Toniná

The young descend facing forwards, I turned the other way, and proceeded carefully using hands as well as feet. About half way down I remembered that scorpions habitually bask on old, warm stones. It was a thought I could have done without but I continued placing my fingers on ledges I could not see - nothing bad happened.

That was the end of our visit, though it took some time to complete our descent and return to the car. We had enjoyed Toniná, there had hardly been half a dozen other people there and we had been able to wander and clamber at will. A time will come when conservation issues and health and safety will conspire to stop that and, as at Angkor Wat, wooden steps and walkways will sprout up to keep people and archaeology apart. I understand why it will be necessary, but I am glad we got here first.

Misol Há Waterfall

The 120km from Toniná to the Misol Há waterfall took over two hours, but only because the road was slow and twisty, we encountered no further roadblocks.

The Cascada de Misol Há lies just off the main highway some 20km before Palenque. Misol Há means ‘waterfall’ in the local Mayan dialect and it lives up to its name, the waters of the Rio Misolha (sic) which later joins our old friend the Grijalva fall 35m into a circular pool in a single cascade.

Misol Ha Waterfall, Chiapas State, Mexico

The clear pool set among tropical vegetation has attracted film-makers; among others Johnny Weissmuller swam here as Tarzan and Arnie and the Predator prowled around. The pool is suitable for swimming, even if you are not Tarzan, and I was tempted. We almost had the place to ourselves but one man was swimming. ‘How is it?’ I asked. ‘Kalt’ was his terse response. We have spent too much time recently being kalt (froid, freddo and more appropriately frío) and as I was now warm I decided to stay that way.

The Chan-Kah Resort Hotel, Palenque

We reached our destination in the late afternoon. We wished Al and Freddy well as they dropped us at the Chan-Kah Resort Hotel facing a long journey back to San Cristóbal.

The hotel was one of those out-of-town holding pens for foreigners we try but sometimes fail to avoid. We would stay the night, visit the Palenque Mayan site, stay another night and go. We would not visit the modern city of Palenque, which may not be much, but it is Mexico and that was what we came to see. That said Chan-Kah offered us a rustic looking but pleasant, even luxurious, cabin, extensive grounds, swimming pools and a restaurant, what had we got to complain about? We went to find a beer and bitch about our fortune, then had a stroll through the grounds – more in the next post – a shower and a rest.

Our cabin, Chan-Kah Resort, Palenque

Dinner at the Chan-Kah Resort, Palenque

Despite lack of altitude Palenque was not as warm as I had hoped, or expected this far south, but eating in the open sided restaurant was comfortable - with a sweater (and Christmas decorations). We had few fellow diners until a coach party arrived and commandeered all the waiters – not unusual in resort hotels. We started with nachos and tequila, our very first tequila not in a margarita; it seemed disappointingly bland after mezcal. My beef with chipotle (smoke-dried jalapeño chilis) rice and salad was an ordinary beef stew with a mild smoky/spicy flavour while Lynne’s steak, mushrooms and French fries was hardly Mexican, but she enjoyed it. After being offered only Spanish wine the last few nights we chose a more local product. Vino Verdades Cabernet Sauvignon from Baja California (2,000km away, but at least in Mexico) was an impressively solid wine at a reasonable price and perfect with beef.

Dinner at the Chan-Kah Resort, Palenque

South East from Mexico City

Monday 27 November 2017

The Sumidero Canyon and Chiapa de Corzo: Part 8 of South East from Mexico City

The Rio Grijalva and the Oldest Spanish City in Chiapas State

Mexico
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.

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…

Boat station on the Rio Grijalva

…. but Lynne did not yet judge it warm enough to remove her sweater.

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.

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.

American crocodile, just about, Sumidero Canyon

I prefer my photo of a heron which briefly accompanied us.

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…

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.

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…

Mexican Spider Monkey, Sumidero Canyon

…demonstrated his skills…

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.

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..

Really enjoying the cool breeze, Sumidero Canyon

…but then noticed our way seemed to be barred.

A Garbage Slick in the Rio Grijalva

Something bars our way, Sumidero Canyon
Closer, we could see a garbage slick, mainly plastic bottles but with all sorts of detritus caught up in it, 30m wide and strung out across the whole river. Along the way we had seen occasional bottles floating on the stream, and this is the place where topography and fluid dynamics demand they all end up.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

Approaching the Chicoasén Dam

We paused to admire the pelicans decorating the floating oil drums, turned and headed back south.

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.

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?

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).

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.

Parachico, Chiapa de Corzo

The locals boast that their zócalo (main square) is bigger than Mexico City’s.

The Zócalo, Chiapa de Corzo

We enjoyed the unaccustomed warmth as we strolled through the relaxed streets…

Chiapa de Corzo

…and toured the shops in the 18th century portales.

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…

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.

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….

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.



South East from Mexico City