My friend and former coworker Rafael has returned from his visit to arctic-cold Wisconsin, and he and his wife San invited us for a road trip to the Sierra Gorda mountains. Our destination: El Chuveje Waterfalls, and the picturesque mountain town of Pinal de Amoles.
I told a friend about the upcoming trip and she was a bit worried for me; it’s a 3-hour drive on twisty switchback roads, very narrow and very fast, and even the strongest of stomachs sometimes gets twitchy. So starts the internal conversation: I have a cast-iron stomach (no I don’t); I’ve never had car sickness before (yeah, but what about boat sickness? Right?); I’ll be fine (but what if I puke? How embarrassing!) and so on. Uggh, please be quiet Brain.
The drive was punctuated by speed-demon motorcyclists roaring past us in packs, some wearing Go-Pro cameras mounted on their helmets. As they negotiated hairpin turns with no idea what/who was on the other side, I envisioned the Go-Pro recording a LONG unplanned descent to the bottom of the mountain.
While you climb the mountains the climate changes, sometimes with sharp demarcation lines: from scrub and cactus trees, to saguaro cactus, to barrel cactus, and suddenly, to deciduous trees and pine trees. Temperatures went from the 70s F back down to the 60s, and then at the very top, spiking to about 85 degrees, just as we began our foot ascent.
At El Chuveje we parked, paid our 30 pesos each ($1.60), and walked in about a mile. Flowing, standing, plentiful water is rare in these parts, and the pools and gurgling brooks were a feast for the eyes.
The small pools and cascades were pleasures enough, so I was unprepared when we reached the “actual” waterfall.
On our way back we stopped in Pinal de Amoles , a town of 1,600 residents located at 7,600 feet (2,320 meters) above sea level. This former mining town is now thinly supported on a small amount of local commerce and monies sent back home from overseas. It was a holiday weekend, so the locals had a music stage going, with a lively band of 4 musicians playing their hearts out. The young male guitarist whose voice has not yet changed was especially enthusiastic.
The central church was open to visitors as well.
When I visit these small towns I find myself imagining life here. As a teenager I desperately wanted to get away from Cudahy, my “small town” 0f 20,000, which bordered on the big city of Milwaukee. How do the local teens feel? Do you stay here, where everyone knows your name, you are a part of a close-knit community, and all your ancestors are buried in the churchyard? Or do you strike out for new lands, where you are excited but perhaps overwhelmed by all the vast options open to you?
As the day lengthened into late afternoon we continued the hairpin turn descent back to Queretaro. Just like when I was a child, the rocking of the car lulled me into a nice nap. Later we stopped at a pretty historic restaurant to cap off the evening. Thank you to Rafael and San for taking us on this journey!