Part of what we do on our small excursions here in Veracruz is play a giant-sized version of connect-the-dots. We come to one place and recognize that we've been near it before, coming at it from the other side. Then we feel compelled in a small way to close the gap from the other side, or, if you will, the other dot. Cofre de Perote has been something of a big dot in this game. We've travelled many different roads now to connect to it, many of them unpaved, wandering through small pueblos and ever-changing weather and landscapes. We’ve found different places which tempt Jim as beginnings of not driving, but hiking routes to the top. Jim, mountain person that he is, also has sought routes by looking down from the top. When we drove, years ago for the first time to the top of Cofre, Jim spotted a lake down the southwest side that didn't appear to have a trail to it and of course the seed to hike down to it was planted. Last winter we did, or at least Jim did. My brother-in-law John and I got maybe half way down (Jim says a third). John would have gone farther, but he very gallantly kept me company while Jim and two of the dogs made their way along bases of bluffs and through small passes to find it.
From the top of Cofre, one can see that the lake lies along a not-marked but possible route up from Los Altos/La Toma. The next challenge of course was how to connect the dot of the summit to the dot of the lake to a dot lower down near La Toma/Los Altos that we could hike up from.
Jim stores a lot of this information in his mind long after I forget about it, and I suspect the first time he decided you could summit from Los Altos was when we drove through it on the way to a tree-planting/reforestation event maybe three years ago which was sponsored by some local environmental groups. On that trip, we followed a rough road out of Los Altos, then hiked a bit higher with the group to a place that had been prepared – little holes dug, little seedlings placed carefully next to them -- so that accompanying dignitaries wouldn’t have to get their hands dirty -- I remember being totally breathless. I cannot remember if we saw the summit itself or not from our tree-planting site. I do remember some spectacular views, two rattlesnakes and some delicious pombazo sandwiches. Jim I think filed this trip away for future reference for climbing.
The next time we drove up to Los Altos was on our way to La Gloria last spring. Here you can see some photos of the area we took on that trip. As you can see, it was during the dry season. On that trip, we discovered that in fact there is another town, quite small, a bit higher up called La Toma, and it was here that we headed yesterday, via Los Altos. The first thing I have to get out of the way is a picture to show how Happy often sits in the car. Happy said I could put it on the blog.
Below is a snapshot of the very colorful primary school in La Toma:
Below is a public health sign on the side of a building addressing diarrhea prevention. As I’ve mentioned and illustrated before, such signs painted on buildings are very common in small pueblos, and I suspect they have some effect. I don’t know who does the actual painting, but it seems likely it is someone local. I would think if this is the case, the signs might be even more effective than big, slick, impersonal posters, though this one looks past its prime.
There’s actually a road from La Toma to El Conejo which is the pueblo on the north side on the way to the paved road which reaches all but the top of the rock on Cofre. One day I would like to try this road, connecting two more dots -- from La Toma to El Conejo. Since both La Toma and El Conejo are around 10,000 feet in altitude, this will be one high ride. We drove a little way down this road from La Toma road thinking it was the one that led to the path to the lake. We saw a field of stones:
And many fields with corn shocks marching across them. Jim knew they were corn shocks, having learned the word from his father some 40 years ago. In the US where almost everything is machine-harvested, it would be rare to see them.
And some goats (and more corn stocks).
As you can see, it isn’t so dry now as it was in May. Back in La Toma, we stopped and talked to a woman and her daughters who told us where the path up to the lake from near their house began and directed us to park at the church, which we did. There, four children who were enchanted with our dogs and a little bit apprehensive about us sat in a row on a low wall and asked us quite a few questions, giggling and wiggling the whole time. We asked a cluster of men who were hanging out in front of a little tienda how long it would take to climb to the lake. They thought two or three hours and advised us that it was too late to try today. Thank goodness, I said. I didn’t have a clue how I could possibly make it to the lake, which was another two or three thousand feet higher than we already were. The men looked like they didn’t have a clue how I would, either, no matter what time we started. Clouds drifted across the blue sky, sometimes heavy and dark, sometimes light and puffy.
Jim at the beginning of the trail:
Trail scenery:
(Can you find Rita in the picture above?)
Agave with graffiti below:
And of course a few dog shots. Notice how Rita and Happy stand so well at attention. Cosi is found something more important to look at:
Giaco resting regally:
The trail climbed toward the pine forest.
There was a small house just below it.
A dog came running down towards us barking loudly. Since we didn't want to cause a ruckus with our dogs, Jim walked up to the house while the dogs and I waited. He found a woman and her four daughters living there. We imagine that her husband works on the farmland around and below it. Jim said she was very hospitable and forthright and not shy, which is how people here usually are, even when they don’t live near where foreigners often appear. Jim told her he thought maybe she lived in the highest house in Veracruz. Its altitude was 10,700 feet.
This was as high as we got due to me. Jim really wanted to go as high as the beginnings of the pine forest which wasn’t really much further, but I had started finding myself saying to myself, if you’ve seen one pine forest, you’ve seen them all. So we turned around. Jim is very gentle with me, his weak partner.
Going down was much easier than going up. We hardly noticed the altitude any more. Soon, the oldest daughter from the house near the pine forest, a tall, sturdy beauty of about 16 or 17 passed us, leading a burro, and of course we said hello. Jim asked her to show us the best path to go to the lake, which she pointed out. He also asked her how long it would take. She said, it depends on who is walking. She is the first person who has ever asked this. Normally people just give you kind of broad estimates. Looking at us, she said, "Maybe three hours from here."
She made it down to La Toma long before we did (her mother said she could get down in 15 minutes and up in 20. Jim said it had taken us an hour to go up. The mom said it took her an hour: none of us are so young anymore). We saw the daughter’s burro parked by the side of the road and then we saw her walking down to the center of town with a group of friends. She was wearing boots with heels. Could she have walked the whole way on them? We decided maybe she’d ride the burro back up after dark when he would be more sure-footed than a person would be.
All the way from La Toma to the house at 10,700 feet, fields were used for agriculture: corn, potatoes, bees, goats and sheep. A truck passed us going up an impossibly rutted (it seemed to us) track, and a couple of people who looked like they were walking to or from some work or other did, too. I mentioned to one person that we’d seen the a fat hose carrying water quite high up. He said, that, yes, indeed, that hose brought water down to the community from the lake. The temperature started to fall in the late afternoon. Back in La Toma, as we were loading dogs into the car before leaving, a couple of men stopped to chat, and we talked about the cold. They were expecting snow soon.