Tuxtla Gutiérrez & Surroundings

After the excursion to the Palenque ruins, Misol-Ha and Agua Azul, we arrived very late at San Cristobal de las Casas. We stayed there for quite several weeks, but after 4 days, we did a small detour to Tuxtla Gutiérrez. 

Why? Tuxtla is the state capital of Chiapas, has around half a million inhabitants, and no noticiable charms to offer.

BUT! we went there to visit Ivan, a friend of Hannahs. They met in Cologne, Germany, because Ivan jets over there pretty much every year for the Amphi Festival.

And while Tuxtla is just your average busy government and commercial city, the state of Chiapas boasts a rough and absolutley stunning landscape. And already after the first evening, I was convinced that we were lucky enough to meet the very best guide of Chiapas we could imagine.  

View on the Cañón del Sumidero. Not a postcard. We were there.

Ivan took us to a local restaurant on the evening we arrived, and fed us some yet-untasted delights of the Mexican cuisine, accompanied by some (okay, quite a few.. a lot!) beers. While doing that, he introduced us to some ideas what places we could visit. 

I tried putting them on the map below, but some of them aren't really accurate. The reason is that some of the places are so remote, that not even Google Map knows of their existence. (I'm not sure if that's a curse or blessing.. The people living there could really do with a few more visitors. On the other hand, if you are one of the scarce travellers in Chiapas, you find this stunning area absolutely unspoilt by mass-tourism.)

On the following day, I wake up with a hangover. Oh, right, after dinner Ivan insisted that we absolutely have to try Mescal. I do not regret it at all, because it really IS good, but now my brain feels being repeatedly beaten with an agava leaf.

Kein Problem, as our enthusiastic guide and hosts tells me: He has a remedy. Remember my recipe for Michelada? Remember my rant about the canned beer with Clamato juice? Well, Ivan admits that the canned version is really bad, but he has the recipe, skill, and ingredients to mix a fresh Clamato-Michelada, and it is supposed to be best hangover killer in existance. 

Half a very perplexed glass later we are on our way to the Sima de Cotorras. The way is long, and I have no clue on how to get there without a private car (Ivan is taking us). The scenery is stunning, and the thought "I want to be here with proper climbing gear (and climbing skills to match..)!" keeps popping into my head after every turn reveals another unusual rock formation.

 After passing a really remote village, the road goes from crumbling tarmac to gravel, and the only other traffic is one tractor. The tractor driver has a shotgun under his seat.

Then, finally, we arrive at the Sima de Cotorras. "Sima" means hole in the ground, and this one is really huge! The diameter is roughly 150 meters, and the depth is about the same. And the walls are really vertical, all the way down to the bottom.

Nevertheless, we are the only visitors. "Cotorra" is the local name for green parakeets, which nest in great numbers at the bottom, and are supposed to make an ear-splitting spectacle when leaving the hole in the morning.

Sima de las Cotorras. We saw a lot of Sima, but not a single Cotorra.

We hear.. well, one weird yellow bird that make some odd noises. We aren't here at the right time for the big spectacle, but we expected at least a few of the small green birds to be around. But there isn't, not a single one. The woman who sells us the entry tickets (I think she must be the only human being in a 20 km radius..) tells us it's not the right season for them. Oh well. Next time.

Since it's not really late, we decide to give the boat tour through the Cañón del Sumidero a chance. When we arrive in Chiapas de Corzo, where the boats start, we reallize it won't happen. An enormous amount of people is assmbled on the main square, and everyone carries a big cardboard box. It's near impossible to pass towards the docks, and when we do arrive, it's too late. 

The boxes are a big government campaign: food for the people, presents for the Christmas holidays (and maybe an election is coming up?).

So instead we have an excellent dinner in a restaurant with a concept that is very popular around here, as Ivan tells us: They play very loud live music, and sell you expensive beers. But as long as you keep ordering beers, the waiters pile the table with food. No, I'm not talking about some crummy peanuts. In Spain you might get a few tapas, but .. This is Mexico! The beer-sponsored feast starts with a seafood soup (with prawns and blue crab), followed by an enormous plate with all kinds of vegetables, meat, all served in various but invariably delicious sauces. I'm already pretty full when we order the third beer, but then the plates with minced fish and sun-dried, lime-marinaded shrimps arrive.. Good evening!

On the next day, we get up early. Today's plan: conquer the Arco del Tiempo, or, at least, reach and see it. The photos we've seen so far look absolutely stunning, it's a gigantic natural stone arc over a deep canyon. To reach it, we need to hike for three hours along a narrow trail through the highland djungle of Chiapas.
We pick up a friend of Ivan's, who is brave enough to join us. Or, it could also be that Ivan didn't specify the dangers ahead of us in too much detail when he told her about the upcoming hike. When he does, while driving to the village where we want to start, her eyebrows rise considerably, but she is still enthusiastic about the whole idea.

I did describe the drive to the Sima de de Cotorras briefly. Yes, we were passing through some remote places.. but they are nothing compared to the villages we pass now on our way to the Arco del Tiempo. Telephone landline? Not here. Tap water? Water is plentiful in all the mountain streams, but not a single tap to find. But they do have electricity and, therefore, TVs.

A long time later than we expected, we arrive at our destination. It takes Ivan and another friend of his quite some time to find a guide who is willing to take us (and noone believes for a second we could find the way without a guide). "Mucho lama" is one of the explanations, a lot of mud. The last rain is already a few weeks back, but things (mud, for example) dry slowly at this elevation and with this much djungle overhead.
To make things easier, our guide wants to bring two mules to carry our backpacks (or us, if necessary). We agree to meet a bit further down the road.

The "before" photo.

"A bit further down the road" turns out to be a hike of half an hour. We start to worry a little bit: is this already counting for the three full hours, or not? It is already after 12 o'clock, and we wouldn't want to hike in the dark.

But then we finally arrive at the place to meet the guide. Yes, he confirms, the three hours start exactly HERE. Ooookay. We'll have to walk quickly, then. We are distracted anyway, because the donkeys are indeed quite cuddly, and funny to look at. It's even more amusing to watch Hannah mount, and then set off.

Hannah is very excited about this, the mule a lot less.

One of the best photos so far.

Our guide walks stoically ahead of us, the donkeys show their reluctance more clearly. This is NOT the direction they want to be walking, and they do need some pushing or pulling to keep them going.

Just when I thought we had found a good pace, we arrive at a .. well.. natural structure. It can't be called wall, because there's too much mud on it for a wall. Still, it's quite vertical, and it's clear that the mules won't go up this one with riders on their backs. The girls dismount, Ivan and me start climbing, the guide pushes the animals uphill. 

After braving this obstacle, the path does not get easier. In between, I find lots of things to distract me:

That guy is over 10 centimeters long, and the most artificual-looking centipede I've ever seen. Also the biggest.

The monstrous dire centipede. The djungle plant that I grabbed when I nearly slipped in a mud puddle, that turned out to have very long, brittle and painful barbs. Other, less offensive vegetation that I've never seen before.

Around here we realized what the guide meant with "a lot of mud". The lower part of the photo actually shows the path. Yes, with mud on it.

But one thought keeps on coming back, or rather a calculation: It's 1 o'clock by now. The guide insinuated that at this time of year, with this amount of mud, it might be more like a 4-hour walk. So let's assume we are fast, we still arrive at 16:30. Even if we stay there for only half an hour, it would be around 20:30 when we get back. Only.. it starts to get dark around 6, latest 6:30, here. So doing this hike in the dark?

Then the guide mentions that with OUR speed, it will take us around 5 hours. One way. Sorry, what? Bloody hell. Okay. Another puddle of mud tries to suck on my boot and steal it from me, and I say the inevitable words to Ivan: "I'm sorry mate, but I think it's best to turn back."

The disappointment is clearly visible in his eyes, but he agrees. So we turn around (which makes a slurping noise in the mud) and walk back. Miraculously, the donkeys double their speed on the way home.

After we got back, we took at least a photo with the photo of the Arco del Tiempo.

Back at the "base camp", we meet the village's chief of tourisms board. He confirms, yes, it was a reasonable choice. Best to come back when the path is dry. When? Well, around February, maybe March. Yes, they think about trying to get more tourists to come this way, it would be good for the village. Yes, he thinks there is a homepage as well.

If we want, we can also have a look at the boars. Yes, we want. Any kind of sight is very welcome right now.

They ate all the wild boars around here, so now they breed some more, hoping to release them and build a new boar population.

On our way back (already with the car) we remember that in the other nameless village, someone (we had to ask someone for the way) mentioned that they had some caves.

So we stop, and Ivan just asks another random farmer on the street about that. If we could visit them. Yes, indeed, we can, but we need two guides. I don't quite understand why, but it's a bit funny to watch the two short but muscular farmers pile onto the front seat. They tell Ivan where to drive, then we park the car and set off. According to the two men, it's 15 minutes to the cave entrance. After around two minutes the other one adds "Well, at your speed, it's about 25". Yeah, thanks, we know that already. After 25 minutes, we arrive at entrance. 

From above, it looks like a dark crack below some rocky outcrops, but a quick look with the light reveals more.

Even the entrance to the cave was spectacular. And muddy.

We slowly descend into the darkness, our six tiny flashlights painting fleeting spots of light on the cave walls. Damn, this is really, really incredible. Yes, I've been in stalactite caves before, but they were all.. civilized. 

They had a small hut with a cashier in front, loads of postcards from professional photographers, and little walkways with safety handrails and a thousand "warning: don't touch, eat, breath, or think." signs all over the place.

Stalactites in all sizes and colours.

This cave here is... wild. I realize we aren't the first people in this cave, but that's very easy to forget. (The guides confirm: just two months ago, they showed the cave to some French tourists. They were amazed as well.) I can feel a slight breeze, the air is cold and fresh. From somewhere far away the roar of an underground river is audible. If the invisible giant cave toad decides to eat us now, it will be weeks until someone finds out what happened. The limestone structures around us are hued yellow, red, pink, orange and brown. If someone slips and breaks a leg now, we do have a serious problem. The shapes vary from sponge-like (but still limestone deposits) to knifeblade-thin, and in between the stalactites vary from grotesque to eerie.

And weird limestone things that look like they were designed by H.R. Giger.

This cave is bloody real.

The intrepid cave explorers. With very weak lights. And bad cameras. It's fun nevertheless.

I'm exhausted when we arrive in Tuxtla in the night.

Day Three:

Today, we want to start with the official tourist program. The Cañón del Sumidero, one of the few of Chiapa's sights that are "developed". After the adventures of the past few days, it's a bit like a slap in the face.

For a few pesos, a small boy that probably should be in school shows us the way to a boat company with "good price". There we do pay a reasonable price, and get into the line behind some (other) European and US-American tourists that should please put on some more clothes. Gratefully I accept an ice-cold beer from Ivan's magic bag.

Getting ready to explore the canyon. Life vests are mandatory.

We get into the boat, and I stop bitching. The engine whips the small vessel up the river, while the banks at both sides slowly come closer and the rocks grow steeper.

Looks like the vultures want to show off.

Soon we fly into mouth of the canyon, and I have to crane back my neck a lot to be able see the edge. The cliff edges to the left and right of the river rise over a thousand meters high, almost vertically. I don't know if there's rock climbers around, but if there are, they will definitely be exhausted but happy.

Crocodile! This guy looks like it is fake or photoshopped onto that stone, but it doesn't care about that. Actually, it rip anyone apart and eat them who says "fake!" too close to it.

The boat drivers brings the vessel to a stop close to some of the "main" attractions. The crocodiles are definitely one, and unlike us, they stay utterly unimpressed. The first one blinks at us with the kind of patience that seems to say "My kind has been around here for a few million years more than you weird hairless monkeys, and now I'll just wait a few million years more until you are gone, to have my peace." I hope the crocodile is right.

Some kilometers further I see that there ARE climbers: Two tiny dots in orange working clothes are visible on top of the "Arbol de navidad" formation. Aparently, something has blocked the water flow of the underground river jetting into the canyon, where it creates this bizarre structure. The men work on unblocking the river, and, on top of that, add a scale to this sight, show just how enormous it is.

The "Christmas Tree" rock/vegetation formation. If you manage to spot the restauration worker in the orange overall near the top, you will get a clear idea how huge this is.

The boat continues until we pass the canyon, and reach an extensive lake, surrounded by mostly untouched djungle. The driver holds a short speech, explains about the hydroelectric power plant close by that provides most of Chiapas with clean energy, and thanks us for the tips we are about to give him. Then another, slower and wider boat comes along. Turns out it's the "bar boat", and they sell crisps, fresh fruit and vegetables to nibble (complete with chili sauce, of course), and Micheladas. Mexicans are wonderfully imaginative once they get their tourism started.

After the boat tour, Ivan drives a few kilometers out of Chiapas de Corzo, and stops at a small parking lot, in front of the El Correadero waterfall. Obviously, this is not a main attraction any more, because we pay only 20 pesos entrance fee.

Just a few steps further we meet a group of around 10 people. All of them wear wetsuits, climbing gear, helmets with flashlights, and huge great grins in their face.

Looks like they just climbed into (and back out of) an underground river, and enjoyed it a lot. (If you ever come to Chiapas, try to do that! And tell me about it!)

On our way to the Cascada El Correadero.

What looks like science-fiction art installations actually just grows here.

We "just" climb the stairs to reach the top of the waterfall, and proceed into the cave mouth. A small rock pool in the cristal clear (and not even terribly cold) water invites us for a swim.

Rock pool at the cave entrance over the waterfall.

View from the top of the waterfall towards the "natural jacuzzis".

As a grand finale, Ivan takes us a place that he calls "one of his favourite seafood places". It's actually just a dusty parking lot between two featureless houses, where they sell stuff from atop of a pick-up. But my goodness, what stuff! A platefull of Blue Crab meat, a pile of those marinated shrimps, and a small portion of fish eggs later we float in Maritime Gourmets' heaven. (Okay, I feel a bit queasy about eating fishes ovaries, but the rest is incredibly yummy.)

On the next day, we return to San Cristobal de las Casas. We just spent three days in (or mostly: around) Tuxtla, but what three days! Ivan, thank you very much, we really had an amzing time!