We drove inland toward Cordoba, near Pico De Orizaba, the highest mountain peak in Mexico, the third highest in North America (after Alaska and Canada). We heard that with a good 4x4 you could follow a trail that took you close to the snow line for some spectacular views.
As we made our way to the local tourism office in Serdan to get a map of the trail which leads to Mount Orizaba, we had no idea of what was in store for us. We met
Javier our guide at the office who was assigned to take us to the trail. (We found out later that he was just about to go home for the day when we showed up, but he agreed to take us anyway.) He suggested that we pick up some food and water in town and we could have a picnic lunch at the halfway point up the mountain. Sergio, Javier's boss, came out to check that our vehicle had the minimum ground clearance and was appropriate for the mountain terrain. He gave it his approval, and away we went.
(Note: In order to put this experience into perspective, I'll include a few more details of the day... To our male friends: I won't be offended if you want to skip the next few boring paragraphs and get right to the adventure. In this case, go right to the spot marked ***.)
We had spent the night in Fortin de las Flores, a very pretty little city near Cordoba. Before leaving town for the mountain, we decided to take Chloe to the vet, as her ears were full of ear mites, and she was in obvious discomfort. I was surprised to learn that ear mites are not tiny bugs, but rather a fungus, and the Spanish word for ear mites literally translated is 'mushrooms'. Anyway, the vet cleaned the mushrooms out her ears more thoroughly than I had seen any vet do, rinsed them out and gave her a cortisone injection. All dogs hate having their ears cleaned, especially when they're sore, and the vet was surprised at how strong Chloe was...it took three men ( and one woman ;) ) to hold her still and take care of her ears. We were there for almost an hour, and the whole ordeal cost about $40 Cdn.
By the time we got to Serdan, we were hungry and agreed to look for lodgings and grab lunch before our short tour to the mountain...at least that's what I thought the plan was. While looking for a hotel, we saw the tourism building. We pulled over (it was Saturday and there was no place to park), figuring we might as well pick up some info since we were right there. Chloe and I waited in the hot car for what seemed to be thirty minutes but was more likely twenty.
When David returned, he announced that we're going up the mountain now. I protested - I really wanted to secure a room, freshen up and have lunch, in that order - but he said he made plans for a guide to take us up to the mountain right now, so we needed to rearrange the back of the car to make room for a third person. I was objecting to the change in plans, and not too quietly, when up walked Sergio to check that the Escape was appropriate for the mountain terrain. I'm sure he saw the Barker Volcano was erupting as he approached us, but he was friendly, professional, and quick. I tried not to spew any nastiness his way, as he was just doing his job. (A woman crabbing in public is not an uncommon sight in these parts, and he probably thought I just needed a good slap to set me straight.)
We met our guide, Javier, who spoke English very well (and we would find out later, was turning 25 the next day). David instructed Javier to take me on a quick tour of a nearby historical building, apparently so that he could reorganize the car. I was happy for the opportunity to get out of the hot car and walk around, and Javier was a very proficient guide. David joined us a few minutes later, no doubt after allowing enough time to clear my mood. I admit that walking around in the cool building was the refreshing break I needed, and the bounce in my step returned for five minutes. I guess I bounced a little too much, because my head hit a low cement door frame. I saw a few twinkly stars but maintained consciousness.
We left the building, while still rubbing my head, and David announced that we were going to get lunch before heading to the mountain. Javier took us to a grocery store, and the two men made a bee-line for the deli counter.
On several occasions during this trip, I have misconstrued what's going on because I don't understand the language. David is fluent, but he often leaves out several important details when he translates. Imagine this occurring in a very macho environment, and maybe you can understand my frequent frustration.
So here we are at the grocery store, and I realize that I had better go find my own non-deli lunch at the market outside, since the men were buying sandwiches. The first thing I found was a vendor selling fresh (as in local) cut up fruit in a cup: pineapple, mango, papaya, oranges, complete with a fork. You can find this everywhere in Mexico, and since I didn't know the lay of the land yet and I was still dazed from the knock on the skull, I went for the quick and easy fruit lunch. After I paid and started digging in, I realized that they had sprinkled chilies and lime over the refreshing snack. In my haste, heat, hunger and headache, I forgot that this is customary here. It was still tasty, but not exactly what I had expected.
I waited for the men in front of the grocery store where I had last seen them, trying to cool off (and down), attempting to eat the less spicy chunks of fruit. There were three small beautiful children in front of the store; they smiled at me and I smiled back. After a few minutes I realized they were pointing at me and laughing. I guess they don't see many tall, sweaty, angry white women hanging around the market very often.
When the men returned, it was explained to me that they had bought ham, cheese, mayo, tomato, cucumber, bread and mango juice to make sandwiches for the three of us when we got to a high point in the mountain.
***We drove outside of town to the mountain, and began our ascent. It seemed we were driving a long time, up, up, way up, as we wound our way up the mountain, above the clouds, and finally we got to a clearing where we parked and enjoyed our makeshift picnic lunch.
Within five minutes we noticed the air was thinner, as our respiration rate had changed, and we were slightly breathless. We finished lunch, got into the car, and drove several minutes more, higher we went, the winding goat path narrowing by the minute. We got to another clearing where we took some more pictures of the snow capped peak. We were in awe of the mountain, and literally quite breathless with the altitude. David asked Javier if he would take us higher by foot, but it was already 5pm by now, so it was just a little too late in the day for that. We decided to call it a day, and got into the car.
Imagine our surprise when the car refused to start! All the miles we covered from Ontario to southern Mexico, and the battery dies at this moment! We tried to push-start it, but that didn't work. It was now about 5:30, and we realized that we had to start walking down from the tallest mountain in the country! Since we had not stopped at a hotel room yet and so all of our clothes were with us, we quickly donned a few extra layers, as it would be cold within an hour or so. (We had seen snow on the path on the way up!)
The descent was rough and steep, and we walked as fast as we could. After a while David noticed a power line and we decided that this would likely be the shortest distance to the nearest mountain town. We started following the power lines as the sun set. I just had to take pictures of the sunset...we had never seen it from above the clouds! After an hour or so we arrived at an area which had cell signal so Javier sent a message to his friend and co-worker in town. Gianni was well connected with the local civil protection unit in charge of helping in cases like ours. (Maybe Gianni convinced his friends that a trip up the mountain on a Saturday night to help us would be an adventure.) Knowing that the cavalry was on the way to help us was very reassuring!
We continued walking as daylight turned to dusk, and dusk turned to night, all the while the wind grew stronger, whipping up the dirt, stinging our eyes and lips. The three of us donned hoods and kept hands in pockets to keep warm while we walked down, down, down. Finally we could see the lights of the first mountain village in the distance.
By the time we got to the village it was cold and dark. The local residents who are mostly sheep farmers were not surprised to see us or particularly overjoyed to help us, so we waited there for Gianni and the civil guards to rescue us. After twenty minutes or so the civil guard pick-up truck arrived: Gianni and three guardsmen, outfitted with guns and all. Unfortunately they did not have jumper cables, so Gianni went off with one of the guards to find cables in the next town where his ex-wife's family lives. So we waited in the dark outside of a small store in a pitch black town with Javier and the two guardsmen. The local dogs were attracted to Chloe and kept trying to get closer for a better look. At one point all four men (including the armed cops) stood in front of Chloe when a group of large dogs approached to check out the new bitch in town.
After another half hour the truck returned with jumper cables and in the darkness we piled into the pick-up truck - three of us in the cab, four of us and Chloe in the back - and slowly up the mountain we went. The driver stopped the truck a few times to carefully maneuver the twists and turns on the way up, and after twenty minutes or so we reached the Escape. The cables were connected, and within minutes the Escape was purring happily, and so were we. It was almost Miller time! The police not only made sure we traversed safely down the mountain, but also escorted us all the way back to Serdan.
We went to a local cafe for a late dinner and a beer with Javier and Gianni. When we finally got to our room, we were completely exhausted; our shins and glutes were already aching, we had dirt in every crack and cranny of our bodies, and the wind had styled my hair Medusa-like.
The next day, we bought a new battery and installed it. Javier found us on the street, while he was out walking with his wife. He was all shiny and new and in very good spirits on his 25th birthday, though admitted his legs were sore. We had apologized for putting him out of his way, and now we had opportunity to duly apologize to his wife as well. Apparently he had left a message with his boss, Sergio, telling him what had happened, and Sergio asked him to find out whether we needed anything today. So here he was, on Sunday, his birthday, extending his hand after we had taken him for a ride up the mountain and then made him walk down it. We were very impressed at the kind nature and professionalism of all the people we encountered during the mountain experience.
As we drove out of town, I announced that my adventure cup was full, I had had enough adventure to last me a long time, and that we were going to spend the next week or so lying on the beach (which we have not done yet). I thought David took the news well, although I did detect some disappointment.
