Another fellow elementary school teacher extended a most alluring invitation: a mountainous hike to have a picnic. How could I say no? So I show up at his humble adobe at eight in the morning and we packed the essentials: one camera, one 3L Coke, 1kg. tortillas, 2kg. ribs, salt, 10 hot peppers, 2 onions, a
comal, a machete and we're on the way. I must digress. On the way back from the butchers Maestro Javi (as he is called, second picture down, with yours truly) starts to tell me how he hasn't exactly visited this mountain in some 22 years and how he hopes to remember the trail and whatnot. Now I'm always up for an adventure so why not? Here come the part where he's telling me about when he was a kid and he had to go up the mountain in the wee hours of the morning to get firewood with his trusty burro, when we spot Candido. Candido is one of the village drunks. He is walking on the side of the road in a most sweaty cowboy hat wearing work boots tied shut with wire. Maestro Javi instinctively pulls over and asks what he's doing. Supposedly he's on the way to help someone with some cement pouring or something. Javi looks at me and whispers that Candido knows the way. We lure him into the van with talks of free ribs and
pulque, he quickly climbs in. We drive to the foot of a most steep mountain and park outside of a
pulquria. Now pulque is a most intoxicating nectar, made from the maguey, a type of agave. The
pulque regrettably has the consistency of semen, but a deliciously sour taste. We order 2L to go and are on the way. Damn, it was a long way to the top, the 15 degree climb was filled with boulders, cacti and dried leaves, the perfect combination for slippage. After twenty minutes of hiking we
come across a most giant hole (Last picture). Nearly 2m wide and almost 3m deep, there was only one man who could explain: Candido! In between swigs of pulque he explains that two weeks back a rancher saw fire coming from the very spot. Now the Mexican culture is mighty suspicious and seeing plumes of fire in the mountain is certainly not just effect of too much
pulque. Thinking it was buried treasure, the rancer hired Candido and a few other drunks to excavate in the middle of the night. Three nights and who knows how much
pulque later the rancher quickly realized that the hole was empty. So much for the mony pit, at least we know we know why the giant hole is there. We keep on trudging. after another hour of grueling hiking and who knows how many
pulque pit-stops, we arrive at the mesa of the mountain. The fauna has change to a conifer-forest with 200ft. pine trees and mule paths peppering the forest floor. Another fifteen minutes and we're in a clearing, a perfect spot to picnic. We eat ribs (Third picture down), drink
pulque and nap in the shade listening to the sound of the wind tickling the pine needles and bathed in the sweet smell of pine tar. After two hours in paradise we decide to make the descent. Only a few gulps of
pulque left and we run across a pack of
burros, and a few
leñeros (firewood gatherers), share some stories and are on the way. Let's just say that the
pulque made the hike down the hill a tumble, but we made it (First picture: Candido, dog, liters of pulque) and all in time to grab another few liters before the
pulqueria closed. Mission accomplished.
Another fellow elementary school teacher extended a most alluring invitation: a mountainous hike to have a picnic. How could I say no? So I show up at his humble adobe at eight in the morning and we packed the essentials: one camera, one 3L Coke, 1kg. tortillas, 2kg. ribs, salt, 10 hot peppers, 2 onions, a comal, a machete and we're on the way. I must digress. On the way back from the butchers Maestro Javi (as he is called, second picture down, with yours truly) starts to tell me how he hasn't exactly visited this mountain in some 22 years and how he hopes to remember the trail and whatnot. Now I'm always up for an adventure so why not? Here come the part where he's telling me about when he was a kid and he had to go up the mountain in the wee hours of the morning to get firewood with his trusty burro, when we spot Candido. Candido is one of the village drunks. He is walking on the side of the road in a most sweaty cowboy hat wearing work boots tied shut with wire. Maestro Javi instinctively pulls over and asks what he's doing. Supposedly he's on the way to help someone with some cement pouring or something. Javi looks at me and whispers that Candido knows the way. We lure him into the van with talks of free ribs and pulque, he quickly climbs in. We drive to the foot of a most steep mountain and park outside of a pulquria. Now pulque is a most intoxicating nectar, made from the maguey, a type of agave. The pulque regrettably has the consistency of semen, but a deliciously sour taste. We order 2L to go and are on the way. Damn, it was a long way to the top, the 15 degree climb was filled with boulders, cacti and dried leaves, the perfect combination for slippage. After twenty minutes of hiking we 
come across a most giant hole (Last picture). Nearly 2m wide and almost 3m deep, there was only one man who could explain: Candido! In between swigs of pulque he explains that two weeks back a rancher saw fire coming from the very spot. Now the Mexican culture is mighty suspicious and seeing plumes of fire in the mountain is certainly not just effect of too much pulque. Thinking it was buried treasure, the rancer hired Candido and a few other drunks to excavate in the middle of the night. Three nights and who knows how much pulque later the rancher quickly realized that the hole was empty. So much for the mony pit, at least we know we know why the giant hole is there. We keep on trudging. after another hour of grueling hiking and who knows how many pulque pit-stops, we arrive at the mesa of the mountain. The fauna has change to a conifer-forest with 200ft. pine trees and mule paths peppering the forest floor. Another fifteen minutes and we're in a clearing, a perfect spot to picnic. We eat ribs (Third picture down), drink pulque and nap in the shade listening to the sound of the wind tickling the pine needles and bathed in the sweet smell of pine tar. After two hours in paradise we decide to make the descent. Only a few gulps of pulque left and we run across a pack of burros, and a few leñeros (firewood gatherers), share some stories and are on the way. Let's just say that the pulque made the hike down the hill a tumble, but we made it (First picture: Candido, dog, liters of pulque) and all in time to grab another few liters before the pulqueria closed. Mission accomplished.
