Hiking to the Atzompa Ruins

Some readers of my blog are interested in the hikes we take every Friday. It's a pleasure knowing my blog is read. And so, I will continue writing about our hikes. Last Friday it was Atzompa's turn to welcome our group.

Atzompa is where the villagers make green pots, as opposed to San Bartolo where the villagers make back pots.

Green pots, black pots, weaving and wood carving do not bring enough wealth to this part of the world. I wish I could share the enthusiasm many of my fellow extranjero friends have for the culture. I just don't believe that these endeavors are putting enough food on the table.

Atzompa is one of the wealthier pueblos. A Mexican friend told me that it's because of the farms.

My buddy Joan, her and her husband Doug are one of a handful who own vehicles, drove some of us. Other took collectivos or buses. Public transportation in Mexico is far superior to that north of the border, so owning a vehicle isn't necessary. Either way, fifteen hikers convened in Atzompa's town square, and off we went up the steep hill to the ruins. Zapotec, I believe.

When we were about three quarters of the way up the hill we encountered a young man charged with the responsibility of instructing visitors that no photos were to be taken, we should stay on the paths and respect this sacred place. Hence, I have no photos of the ruins.

There were archeologists working, and there was a lot of rebuilding of the grand temples and ball courts that once were.

Joan had invited me, along with a few others, to her house for a Ham Fest. That is because Sam's Club offers, in my opinion, the world's most delicious ham at Christmas time. Last year, I feasted on the ham and have been raving about it ever since. So, now that ham time has rolled around once more, I had the honor of feasting with Joan, her husband Doug, and a few other people.

Life is good.

Hiking in Oaxaca - Cerro Del Fortin

Ciudad de Oaxaca is on a plateau surrounded by hills. One of the Spanish words for hill is cerro. They’re called hills because they aren’t snow capped, nor do they have peaks. And yet, they’re still high and steep.

One of the cerros that surrounds Oaxaca is called Cerro del Fortin. On this hill there is an auditorium, where the annual Guelaguetza is held the last two Mondays in July. Guelaguetza celebrates the many traditions of the sixteen indigenous groupings of Oaxaca.

Also on Cerro del Fortin is an observatory and planetarium.

On Friday, our hiking group, whose members vary from week to week, met at Santo Domingo Cathedral, walked up many stairs, through a tunnel, to the auditorium, past the observatory and up to the top of the cerro.

At the top of the cerro, there is a white cross.

When the Aztecs arrived in Oaxaca, during the 15^th Century, they established an outpost on top this hill.

It was cool when the day began, and so I wore a sweater and vest. By the time we were at the top of the cerro it was hot. I need to dress with more layers. A black sweater will not do in the heat of the day, although it was a good idea for the morning coolness. If I’d had another layer, I would have been able to take my sweater off.

Hiking in Oaxaca - Benito Juarez to Cuajimoloyas

I love the outdoors, and few things please me more than hours of wilderness trekking. In Manitoba, the Canadian province where I lived for many years, I belonged to a hiking club. Since I came to Oaxaca two years ago, I’ve been in search of hikers.

I’ve met people who said they liked to hike, but I had no luck finding anyone who wanted to regularly venture into the hills and tramp the paths for hours. Basically, I experienced some talk, but little action, with the exception of my friend Joan. However, Joan and I travel a lot, and we’re not always in Oaxaca at the same time. The group needed to be bigger than just the two of us.

A couple of weeks ago I met my new friend Larry. I asked my usual question, “Do you like to hike?” Lunch with my friend Joan and Larry’s friend Anome gave birth to our fledging Oaxaca Friday hiking group.

When most people think of Mexico they think of cactus and desert, or sand, cliffs and sea. Few people envision lush pine forests. But, it is lush pine forests that surround the city of Oaxaca. Ecotourism is a growing industry in the state, and many of the mountain villages provide guides, and the opportunity to explore the Sierras either on horseback, riding a mountain bike, or simply hiking.

Last Friday, we, a group of four, drove the steep gravel road to the village of Benito Juarez, where we parked the van at the tourist office and asked for a guide. For the small sum of $150 pesos our guide, Aria, would spend the day with us. $150 doesn’t easily divide into four. I suggested we each contribute $50 pesos, which is less than $5 Canadian dollars. For surprisingly little money, we began our venture into the forest from Benito Juarez to Cuajimoloyas. It was uphill all the way. There was a time in the middle of the hike when I didn’t think I could make it. My legs grew wobbly, I had trouble breathing, and I was dizzy. We rested for a few minutes. I spoke to our guide explaining I needed a slower pace. With a slower pace I was fine, and when we reached an area that was less steep I experienced a natural high and felt great!

It took four hours to climb to Cuajimoloyas. We decided that rather than hiking back to Benito Juarez we would look for transportation that would take us there. My campañeros, none of whom speak Spanish, believed we could easily get a collectivo or a bus. A collectivo, which looks like a taxi, functions like a bus. Collectivos have set routes and collect people along the way.

Neither our guide, nor the Cuajimoloyas tourist employee, spoke English. Therefore, I was the only person who could communicate with them. I was told that no collectivos or buses went to Benito Juarez. So, I had asked it someone in the community could take us. My friends, paying no attention to what I was saying, amongst themselves, came to the conclusion that either a bus or collectivo would go to Benito Juarez.

I didn’t know whether they lacked trust in my translation, or lacked trust in what I was being told. Either way, I was concerned. I didn’t want these nice Mexican people to offer a ride only to have my friends refuse the lift, believing a bus or collectivo would take us to our destination. I explained this to the tourist office staff person and asked him to hold off on finding someone.

He did what Mexican people are inclined to do. He smiled, nodded his head and went off to find someone. Soon he returned, pointed to a pick-up truck, and told us that was our ride. Fortunately, my extranjero hiking buddies complied. We got into the back of the pick-up truck and took a short ride down the hill.

It was a delightful day.