11.2745 Minutes on a Dirt Road to Nowhere
The plan for today was to drive to Uruapan, see some waterfalls, drive to San something and see a city covered in lava, drive to Tzararacua and see a bigger waterfall, drive somewhere else and see some pyramidish ruins, and then come back to Morelia and go clubbing till 4am with Eddie and Sabdy. Oh, and then leave at 8am to drive 4-5 hours to see the Monarchs tomorrow.
It’s now 10pm, we saw the waterfalls at Uruapan, we drive around alot near the lava covered city on unpleasant roads, we saw the waterfalls at Tzararacua, Irma’s snoring next to me, and tomorrow we’re not doing anything until the afternoon, and it’ll be around here. Funny how the travel gods smack you down when you spite them.
We didn’t leave particularly early, we probably got on the road around 9:30 or so, filled up with gas, and then drove the autopista and toll roads to Uruapan. Finding the National Park with the waterfalls was a chore, and by the time we got there Irma and my nerves were shot.
The National Park’s nestled in a fairly developed area, you don’t know you’re next to it until you realize there are hundred foot jungle trees reaching into the sky on the other side of the concrete wall. There are culverts and streams everywhere, and I’m sure it’s all planned. There are springs at the top of the area, and the water travels down these large and small pathways criscrossing and tumbling around all the way down the park. About half way up we came across a kid that was jumping from a treet into the cold water 20 feet below for the tourists. A little girl walked up to me while he was getting ready to jump and said ‘What’s he gonna do?’ to which I replied ‘He’s gonna jump!’. Surreal. We saw an african american gentlemen there, too, which I think is the first non-gringo or hispanic I’ve seen.
We ate lunch at the restaurant in the park. I ordered ‘Enchiladas Con Pollo’, which illustrates the subtle difference between ‘Enchiladas De Pollo’ and ‘Enchiladas Con Pollo’. I got enchiladas with a side of chicken breast.
After the National Park we drove to San Juan de Parangaricutiro, a town built next to old San Juan which had the unfortunate luck to be covered in lava when a nearby volcano exploded. We found a gentlemen who directed us to a dirt road, he said would take us up to the lava-covered city in 25 minutes. Well, the dirt road turned out to be a logging truck road, and 25 minutes into it we hit a logging checkpoint where they told us it would be another hour, and they didn’t think our car could make it. Tons of fun. Aside from stress-testing my cars struts, and inhaling a bunch of logging truck fumes, we didn’t really see much, except some mountain-top pine forests.
After that we managed to find our way to Tzararacua, where the river that divides Michoacan from it’s neighboring state starts in a big waterfall. We found it, parked the car, blew off the guys offering horse-rides down and back for 60 pesos, and started down the stairs. Irma had a headache, and the sun and physical exertion wasn’t helping. We finally got to the bottom, and I gave Irma my shirt because it was lighter. I had my flannel with me, so I threw that on. The falls themselves are impressive, big and thunderous. There’s this strange foam that forms at the bottom of the falls, enough to make you wonder if it’s sewege runoff that’s full of detergent.
The horse guys had arrived at the bottom as well with four small horses, but there were five of us, so I ended up following them on foot. I’m not sure how to relay how long of a walk it had been down, dreading the walk back up, but to give you some idea, by the time I got half-way down my legs would start shaking uncontrollably if I stood still.
I kept up with Irma’s Aunt Bibi and Irma’s mom for a while, but they reached a steep spot and I started to fall behind. I had the bag with Irma’s hoodie and shirt in it slung across me, and I was fighting against the altitude all the way. I hadn’t had anything to drink for a while, and gasping for air was drying out my throat even more. I tried to swallow a few times with no saliva, and ended up horfing in the middle of the dirt road. I felt better after that for some reason, and eventually made it to the top. They sent a horse back for me, but I was only a couple hundred feet from the top when it got to me, so I just kept walking. Haggard, slow, painful walking, but walking never the less. At the top we sat in the cafe for a while and I drained a Fanta. My face was tingling, and everybody told me I was really red, but after a while it calmed down. The horse guys said they’d gotten a 300 lb american lady on one of their horses before, and all I could think of was how that poor horse didn’t deserve that.
We drove back to Morelia as the sun went down. Irma’s mom had a dentist appointment at 8pm, which we made with 2 minutes to spare. After we dropped her off we went and parked the car, and came back to the house. Irma decided not to go to the party, saying she was really tired, and didn’t want to go without me. I didn’t want to go because I didn’t have anything to wear out, it would be a weird situation, and I was already tired.
We made Irma’s mom and Aunt Bibi go get us food, and Irma was snoring before they even got back. Once food arrived (They were out of pollo! How can they be out of pollo?!?) Irma got up, but we’re both feeling incredibly worn out.
As usual, new pictures
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