Feb 23/09: It's Monday and things have settled down a little here. That cheesey "Red River Valley" thing happened again at 6:00am. Must be the town alarm clock. And the church bells ring on the half hour and the stereos compete and the chickens cluck, the dogs bark, roosters crow but most of the tourists have gone and the streets are pretty empty. Kids were heading for school and there was a more industrious air about town as I headed out for a hike. My destination was a distant peak I've had my eye on. A trail can be seen zig-zagging up to it and it looked very enticing to me. A beautiful cloudless morning, cold as usual until I ascended into the sun and started shedding layers. It took a long time before I left the sounds of town behind me but eventually stillness descended and it was lovely to be walking in the quiet, cool morning air with landscapes opening up as I climbed. As I started up the last steep pitch to the top I looked up and, oh dear, those are people up there! I had solitude in mind and, once again, that little fear bug bit. Nonetheless, I continued up and just before I reached the top, a group of descending Huichol folks came in sight along with a young, anglo Huichol wannabee. We "buenos diased", down they went and I breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe I'd have solitude after all and wouldn't be robbed and/or killed. At the top the view was stupendous. The flat desert plains way below stretched out to the horizon. There was a smoldering fire pit in the middle of concentric circles of stones and a little stone hut with various offerings inside and out, Christian and Huichol, coins, crosses, little Huichol woven things along with the usual non-sacred offerings, cigarette butts, plastic bottles, candy wrappers. I found a place to sit and contemplate the view and ponder the Huichol's relationship with this place; tried to imagine them walking that 400k across that desert and up into these mountains. And up there I could get a sense of the world beneath me turning slowing and the endless sky above. Then along came a couple of guys and, lo and behold, it was Jack, the Frenchman who was staying with me at Lety's place in San Luis Potosi. He'd opted for the guided horseback tour. We exchanged a few words and they went off but I could hear the endless spiel of the guide just going on and on so I moved off to silence again. And right at noon, wafting on the breeze into that stillness came strains of that damn cheesey "Red River Valley" thing like a malign curse. It deserved a chuckle.
After I'd had my fill of that mountaintop, I descended but made another side trip up to some other ruins I'd spied from the top. Another climb up to what looked like ruins from various eras, some old and crumbling, obviously Spanish ones, others newer and there were power lines to the site. Poked around there some before heading back into town.
Had a coffee at the Café Azul (blue cafe) where they have nice coffee and those teeny computers. Nice gals there who have come know my coffee preferance. Then went grocery shopping at the one and only large-ish grocery store where the girl serving me was going for the gold in the snotty clerk event. Lots of them here. Then sat on my rooftop terrace with my book for a while until the noise again drove me out of town. I hadn't intended on going so far but found myself way up by the old mine again in order to escape the noise. It was lovely up there with the sun sinking low casting a golden light, the sounds of the town fading. There I came upon a herd of sheep shepharded by three dogs and a shephard with his transistor radio blaring. Oom pah, oom pah. He wandered off and I did too and found a nice place to sit overlooking the ruins and mountain scenery below. And right at 6:00 guess what? That cheesey tune again!! The only sound that carried way up there. Lucky for me.
Thus ends my stay in Real de Catorce and my Mexican sojourn. Tomorrow I'll try to get to Albuquerque or as close to it as I can. Stay tuned for more from there.
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