The Wizard of Catemaco

Semana Santa, the holiest of all vacations in Mexico, 2 weeks of city fold invading the beaches and pueblos, has come and gone, the kids are in school and their parents at their desk. I spent that week nestled in the coastal mountains of Los Tuxtlas. It is the last of the coastal jungles in Mexico and one of their only protected areas. It's birds range from the Eagle to the Tucan, lizards from the gecko to the iguana, mammals from monkeys to the puma and tons of other critters that won't let you sleep. My good friends Robin, his girlfriend Sara, and my ex Elda joined the Turk tour for their Semana Santa. We met up at La Bahia Escondida Sunday April 1st, and weren't prepared for the man in charge. A big jolly Swiss man with long hair, mustache and piercings. He claims that as a child he had a misunderstanding in his country and took off to Paraguay at 18 and has never been back. The man is an old hippy and a die hard conservationalist named Zasha, he spends his spare time educating kids about conservation and keeping vigil over his territory for PROFEPA (Mexican EPA, with a staff of 2 for all of Veracruz). His place is beautiful, just like all of lake Catemaco, it's lakeside jungle property with a view of the islands. "But don't take my word for it..."

La Bahia Escondida

After a couple of days partying with Zasha we moved north from there to Lake Sontecomapan. Since we had Robin's car I road my bike there without the trailer, it was wonderful until I lost one of my sandals that was poorly tied to my bike rack, not any sandal but a Chaco, the best sandals in the land. I knocked on many doors of the pueblo of Pozatlan, but nobody had seen the poor guy, some little fisherman probably picked it up thinking it was a small boat. I bought some 7 dollar "Sport" sandals in Catemaco and went on my way. Sontecomapan is another beautiful jungle infested lake lined with beaches and mangroves were it meets the Gulf. We stayed in an awesome little place called El Ranchol de los Amigos, a community of Mexicans and foriegners buyng to conserve it. Photos!!(clap, clap)...

El Rancho de los Amigos

After a night there we went to a little beach called Jicatel just north of Sontecompan and were we camped, swang in hammocks and camped, it was living. On the way out we met photographer, biologist and cabaña owner Felix Aguilar, he said he had some openings and we hit it up. The place is called Ecobiosfera, some huts on the side of a hill by the reserve St. Martin in the pueblo of Dos Amates. Before I go further, Catemaco is known for its Wizards, with the use of smoke they can cure you of anything, jealousy to cancer (they said this not me). Felix invited us to a party on this American looking lake house by the pueblo of Coyame. The owner, Pabo, is nice, we ate shrimp cocktail, drank beer and red wine, then he started talking about some mystical books and his talks with the Dali Lama, this freaked us out a little but we nodded our heads and listened. After the chat, he says, we are now going to do a cleansing ritual and leads us to a palapa, now we are really freaking out. While I was thinking "Red Punch" time, this guy pulled out a boom box and started dancing. It was awesome, we made a circle, he lead us in some dance cleansing ritual, first some African beats, followed by Mambo no. 5, then YMCA and finished with Bob Marely, this is my kind of wizard.
And yes, now I am clean. Cut to the pictures...

Ecobiosphera

We passed our last night together in the Ecobiosfera with a good ol bar b q with the other fellow residents of Ecobiosfera. Felix's brother n law, David, an American Vietnam vet, and soul searcher. What is a soul seracher? After Nam the guy travelled Europe, Africa, and Asia Minor looking for the meaning of it all, this guy is intense, he made his living playing guitar and selling pot, this dood had some stories, and some good jokes. Here is one....

An American and Mexican are duck hunting on the border, they both shoot the same duck and it falls in the Rio Grand. They pull at it for a while and decide that only a contest of strength that doesn't involve the duck can decide the true owner. They agree on crotch kicking. The American goes first, the Mexican kicks him in the nads, and the American takes it but is crying, the Mexican keeps at it, and the American falls at 63 nut jogs. The American gets up and dusts off his boot fot his kicks, then the Mexican throws the duck at him and says, "You win man, keep the f$&)ing duck, and look me up if you want to go hunting again".

It was good to have some friends around to share my experiences, but like all good things come to an end and I can hear the open road calling, sometimes it sounds like Whitesnake:
"Here I go again on my own, going down the only road I've ever known, like a ..."

If you are more old school, sometimes it sounds like Willie Nelson:
"Riding on the Spirit of New Orleans....." or "Livin on the road my friend..", well just about any Willie tune.