11/10/08

.............. Our half planned trekking trip got off to a slow start. Waiting at the bus stop, Felix snapped his only pair of glasses in two after over-manipulating them to stay on his head. With the prospect of jaw-droppingly beautiful mountain views being no more than a greasy blur, we decided to fix them. I of course had my trusty first aid kit to hand and managed to bind them together with a sticky plaster. This crummy repair job engrossed us both to the extent that our bus came, stopped, waited then left right before our unobservant eyes. Eventually another choked up and we were on our way.

We swapped our bus for coach and headed for the small mountain village of Cuajimoloyas. From here we planned to hike 10kms to an even smaller, more remote settlement named Llano Grande. We had been warned several times by several people that we should hire a mountain guide as the forest tracks are overgrown and in many places barely visible but thanks to the miss-guided boldness of youth and the Mears/Gyrils phenomena (the belief that having watched a posh bloke on tv squeeze water from elephants dung, you can survive on shoe laces alone), we disappeared into the thick forest leaving only the perplexed looks on the locals faces behind.

The air was incredible, the freshness stung the lungs but due to the altitude was also very thin, testing our hung-over limbs. It was an unusual mix of forest and jungle or 'fongle' as we decided upon. Everywhere I looked I was seeing species of plants, birds and insects that I'd never laid eyes on before.

With only my trusty compass and a map that would insult the work of a 5 year old using blunt crayons, we were soon lost. After going through a spectrum of emotions (desperation being one of them as I asked Felix if he had a lighter, with warming fires in mind) we stumbled on Llano Grande as evening was drawing in. We were greeted by home cooked food and cold beers by the incredibly welcoming locals. They put us up in a cabin with open fire, a magical setting that we both agreed might be better suited shared with different company but numerous games of 'shit head' (the ancient card game), kept us well entertained.

Early next morning we decide to hang up what was left of our male pride and hired a guide. He took us to the highest, rock covered peak in the area. At first we thought it was a particularly misty day but then realised we were in a cloud. The white whispes seemed to absorb everything they passed, suffocating sounds like a wave of cotton wool. The view from the peak was a silent expanse unlike any I'd seen before.

Our guide, who'd barely said a word for the first three hours, warmed to us and began telling us that pumas and jaguars were not uncommon sightings. Unfortunately they all seemed to have taken the day off.

After waiting for two hours for the bus that never came, we jumped in the back of a pick-up truck, carrying others back to Oaxaca (including an American girl who was threatening to throw up out the back of it).

That night, Stephanie came back with a two litre bottle of mezcal she'd bought from a farmer and the kitchen was a buzz.