Day One; Part Two
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After a short siesta, we continued to hike. And hike....and, hike. Climbing over the peak and finally the awaited descent; amongst the shadow of the trees. We approached a church just as the yearly baptism had ended and the well dressed families where loading into their trucks. Again, we were re-united with the Aunt who had randomly passed us miles and miles ago, as we rested. Yes, the same Aunt who predicted; errh, I mean warned me about the rashy bum. We quickened our pace to order a cold soda from the tienda and then lazily sat inside the courtyard of the church.
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One of the overall highlights of my trip was seeing how people lived. The architecture of the houses; at times, lack of architecture. The warmness of a strangers smile; somewhat perplexed by the gringa walking through the hills of the Sierra Madre and equally as happy to see someone passing by.
We ended our descent around 9 p.m. in the pueblo of Zapotan at the home of Doña Pachicha, who hosts peregrinos. Pilgrims. A group of travelers had already arrived, so our group of 7 was given the tiny side porch to lay out our sleeping bags. We changed into our bathing suits, jumped into the back of the truck and drove to some hot springs up the road. Already knowing the 10 minute routine of hot, followed by a quick splash of cold river water, I glanced at my watch; noting the time. Shortly after, we jumped into the back of the truck and shivered from the cold mountain air, all the way back to Doña Pachicha's. A homemade dinner was ready for us. The best tortillas ever.
I have to admit that I had to work hard to be comfortable at Doña's house. There was no electricity, an outhouse that had a clogged toilet, a kitchen with chickens playing in the sink; also used for people to wash their hands and brush their teeth, and a chicken wire fence that held a donkey, chickens, roosters, and a pig that was positioned about a bodies length away from where I was sleeping. Normally, I dream of being in this type of environment. Maybe it was being so exhausted and not wanting to be uncomfortable.
We ended our descent around 9 p.m. in the pueblo of Zapotan at the home of Doña Pachicha, who hosts peregrinos. Pilgrims. A group of travelers had already arrived, so our group of 7 was given the tiny side porch to lay out our sleeping bags. We changed into our bathing suits, jumped into the back of the truck and drove to some hot springs up the road. Already knowing the 10 minute routine of hot, followed by a quick splash of cold river water, I glanced at my watch; noting the time. Shortly after, we jumped into the back of the truck and shivered from the cold mountain air, all the way back to Doña Pachicha's. A homemade dinner was ready for us. The best tortillas ever.
I have to admit that I had to work hard to be comfortable at Doña's house. There was no electricity, an outhouse that had a clogged toilet, a kitchen with chickens playing in the sink; also used for people to wash their hands and brush their teeth, and a chicken wire fence that held a donkey, chickens, roosters, and a pig that was positioned about a bodies length away from where I was sleeping. Normally, I dream of being in this type of environment. Maybe it was being so exhausted and not wanting to be uncomfortable.
We woke up at 3:30 a.m to the other peregrino's departing for their next leg of the pilgrimage. Most people hike at early dawn or through the night to dodge the powerful rays of the sun. If I were to do the trip again, my request would be to hike in early mornings and late evenings. As the group departed, the roosters began their morning calls; there was not much sleep happening. I lay restlessly needing to use the bathroom; not wanting to use the cloggy toilet and knowing squatting out in nature was impossible now that the sun was beginning to rise.
The family was hard at work by the time we packed up and sat down at the kitchen table. Doña Pachicha is in her early 70's, but has the appearance of a 100 year old from the hard work and too many years in the sun. She carried the firewood to the wood oven as the teenage girls ground the corn. Once the corn was ground, it was given to Doña to put into tortilla form and warmed on the fire. Fresh eggs and the most well deserved coffee of my life. For those of you who know me as 'Vegan Jen', that went out the door after practically spooning the darn chicken, last night, who laid the eggs.
Zapotan is small. About 30 or so residents. One small primary school. I never passed a small store, and walked by the majority of houses in this town. The nearest middle school and high school are very far away. The three young girls at this house do not attend school. Many of the men head north of the border and rarely look back; according to Doña. Beautiful place to spend the night; grateful for the endless opportunities I have had in my life (and still have).
Humbled.
Soreness has now set into my legs and feet. Blisters appearing on my hands from holding my walking stick. How am I going to do this again tomorrow?
The family was hard at work by the time we packed up and sat down at the kitchen table. Doña Pachicha is in her early 70's, but has the appearance of a 100 year old from the hard work and too many years in the sun. She carried the firewood to the wood oven as the teenage girls ground the corn. Once the corn was ground, it was given to Doña to put into tortilla form and warmed on the fire. Fresh eggs and the most well deserved coffee of my life. For those of you who know me as 'Vegan Jen', that went out the door after practically spooning the darn chicken, last night, who laid the eggs.
Zapotan is small. About 30 or so residents. One small primary school. I never passed a small store, and walked by the majority of houses in this town. The nearest middle school and high school are very far away. The three young girls at this house do not attend school. Many of the men head north of the border and rarely look back; according to Doña. Beautiful place to spend the night; grateful for the endless opportunities I have had in my life (and still have).
Humbled.
Soreness has now set into my legs and feet. Blisters appearing on my hands from holding my walking stick. How am I going to do this again tomorrow?
Hiking Photos From the Day
Next up: Day Two...near dehydration, tears & hallucination. And, my favorite part of the trip; the pueblo of Cabo!
Read Day One; Part One
Read Day One; Part One
