Hiking the Sierra Norte

Experiencing the rural mountain villages of Oaxaca, Mexico

 

 

 

In the early afternoon heat, after experiencing the local Sunday tangui (market) in Tlocalula, we were bouncing along in the back of a flat bed truck ever higher into the mountains.  The back and sides of the platform, shared with six indigena women and a bushel of some type of flower, were open or barely covered, causing the increasingly cooler, wetter air to chill us into putting on our fleece jackets.  Finally above tree line, the desert scrub gave way to green forests, our height reinforced by the family of turkey vultures circling and diving over the steep mountain slopes alongside the road.  Out of nowhere appeared the small town of Cuajimoloyas, it's grouping of houses and businesses scattered up and down a grid of very steep streets.  The truck stopped and we stepped off to begin our two day trip into the Sierra Juárez mountains northeast of Oaxaca, Mexico, also called the Sierra Norte.

Our adventure began the day before at the offices of Expediciones de Sierra Norte in the capital city, where we decided on a day of hiking and day of horseback riding between Cuajimoloyas, Latuvi and Lachatao, three of the villages participating in the cooperative Pueblos Mancomunados run by the a group of non-governmental organizations.  The office provides tourists and locals with information and arrangements to explore 100 kilometers of trails connecting eight mountain towns by foot, bike or horse, eating local food and staying along the way in "rustic" cabañas.  The office collects a small fee (10USD) for their services, and writes up an itinerary with costs to be paid along the way to the individual towns.  These services provide important revenue for the towns and promote responsibility and protection of the forest land.  

In Cuajimoloyas, the cabañas are literally at the highest point in the village, looking out over what would be a great view if the town wasn't obscured by clouds.  They have electricity, hot water, were very clean, well built and maintained, which would be true for all of the cabañas we stayed in.  A quick walk down to the only open comedor yielded a hearty dinner of chile rellenos, chicken in a chipotle sauce and wonderful salsa and tortillas prepared by two women in a small kitchen attached to the dining room.  By the time we got back, a fire was raging in our room with more wood stacked for the night.  

After breakfast at the other comedor in town (and the best coffee and hot chocolate of the trip), we met Evencio, our guide, back at the cabaña around 10am for the start of our first day's hike.  The conversation was lively as we hiked down a wide dirt track past giant cactus, bulls and burros, occasionally passing farmers working their land, all the time descending out of the clouds.  The track eventually became smaller and we found ourselves in the eerie mist, on a rock pinnacle surrounded by trees covered with hanging moss. This was the halfway point where we met up with Javier, our guide the rest of the way to Latuvi.     

We quickly made our way down steep hills till we reached a stream with a trout farm, perfect for a meal or a quick rest.  The climate was much warmer here and the pastoral country setting was relaxingly idyllic.  After having a cerveza with our guide, we finished the primarily downhill hike with two exhausting kilometers up a steep road, cresting at the tiny town of Latuvi and the welcoming promise of a hot shower and rest.  Latuvi's center was at the top of the hill, with a small school, municipal building, a couple comedores, and the dramatically perched cabañas, with a panoramic view of the valley below.  The hillsides tumbled down from here, dotted with small houses and farms, all seemingly basic structures juxtaposed by electric wires running across rooftops and clusters of satellite dishes.

Life in these villages is much slower and less rigid than in the city.  Time is largely irrelevant as people go about their daily lives, going to school, working the fields, or providing the limited services available, guided by a natural pace more than the exact hour.  Often, while looking to pay for the cabaña or meet the next guide, we were told "mas tarde", a phrase that literally means "later", but more loosely translated, meant "sometime in the future, someone might be along and will probably come find you".  There is literally nothing to do in these villages for tourists but to unwind and soak in the sun and slow pace.  

The next morning, our guide Miguel appeared at the cabaña with two small horses named Fito and Guerra.   We mounted and with Miguel leading the way on foot, proceeded down the cobblestone main street, veering off onto a narrow dirt track that wound its way down steep switchbacks till we reached the bottom of the valley.  The path follows an ancient Zapotec trail along the small river for seven or eight kilometers past small subsistence farms, dry brown, yellow, and light green grass and scrub, that reminded me so much of Northern California in late Summer, it was easy to understand Mexico's historical attraction to the state that used to be theirs.  The horses struggled up and down rocky trails, carefully choosing their steps to avoid plunging down the hillside.  After four hours, we ambled into Lachatao, and were instantly smitten with the sleepy hamlet.  

Santa Catarina de Lachatao feels bigger but quieter than the other towns, centered around an old stone church that provides a sense of colonial times.  Our cabaña had a balcony overlooking the church and from here we watched the hours tick by, seeing nothing but the occasional dog, or student learning their lessons in one of the church's outer alcoves.  One of the highlights of the trip was a dinner we had at Restaurant Los Pinos, a one table affair in the kitchen of the owner Sylvia, whose house sits on a farm with a greenhouse, where she grows all of her ingredients naturally.  We had excellent tasajo (thin skirt steak grilled straight over the burner flame), an excellent nopalito (cactus) salad, and the ever present frijoles (black beans), salsa and tortillas.  While the food was fresh and wonderful, the best part of the meal was the conversation, as other members of the family came and went, greeting and engaging us warmly.  By the end, we felt in some strange way that we knew these people, had been part of their lives in some small way.

The bus to Oaxaca left early the next morning from the square in front of our cabaña, and we had not yet paid.  The teenager who we were supposed to pay had taken “mas tarde” to the extreme, and never come back.  We left the cash in the room and boarded the brand new Mercedes mini bus.  As it wound its way down the narrow switchbacks, more and more passengers got on until it was standing room only.  Kids in school uniforms, university students with laptops, old women with goods to sell at the market and families heading to larger towns for services or work.  Provided as a free service to the people of Lachatao, the bus is a visible example of the direct impact tourist dollars make to the people of the eight towns participating in the decade old ecotourism project.  Visiting the towns of the Sierra Norte gave us a glimpse of modern day rural Oaxaca, an introspective and unique journey that will hold a special place in our memories.