Pico de Orizaba, also known as Citlaltepetl, or Star Mountain, is a volcanic mountain in southeastern Mexico that I had always longed to climb. At approximately 18, 500', it is the tallest mountain in Mexico and the third tallest in North America. For whatever reason, I had always longed to climb it but like many dreams we accrue, they often end up in the scrapheap unless we fight the gravitational pull of fear masked as busyness. While it is not considered to be technically difficult, anytime you get into that sort of elevation, you run the risk of acute mountain sickness, or AMS, and many people have lost their lives on it. To make a summit, would represent my biggest challenge with respect to mountain climbing yet (I had been previously unable to summit Denali).
After lots of false starts and planning over two years, it turned out that ultimately I would go with Mike Frazier of Harrisonburg, Virginia and Bud Force of Godley, Texas. While I know Mike well, I did not know Bud all that well. Bud was someone I literally ran into hiking up Emory Peak last year in Big Bend National Park. We instantly hit it off and I am now convinced that it was meant to be, through the synchronicity of the universe, that I was to be hiking on that Texas trail that day.
It was arranged that I would fly to Dallas on Thursday (12/08) to meet up with Bud, while Mike would fly to Mexico City separately. I arrived into Dallas late at night and by the time we met at the DFW airport, drove to Godley, ate dinner with his wife Megan, and packed, Bud and I didn't get that much sleep. (I should add that Bud is a freelance professional photographer and writer with a true talent and artist's eye; check it out!)
On Friday, we first flew to Houston and then to Mexico City. My initial impression of the city was frankly grim; it was a HUGE sprawling metropolis bathed in an immense brown cloud of pollution with fingers of humanity crawling up up every visible hillside. We were supposed to meet Mike at the airport at a particular gate but this is where "The S" hit the fan, so to speak. The gate we had designated as a meeting point was in another terminal. So Bud and I spent an hour locating a bus and wrestling two huge duffel bags each into a packed bus for the ride to the other terminal. When we arrived, we then spent another hour tracking down the gate only to discover it had been closed due to construction. Thus, no Mike. None of us had the ability to use our cell phones as we had shut them down due to AT & T horror stories on the Web about international rates; in retrospect, this was a mistake I will never repeat. When we asked airport personnel which gate Mike's flight had arrived at, we were told it was back at the terminal we had left :-( We then made the decision to stand our ground and stay put rather than wander around aimlessly hoping to find him. Bud had gone off to see if Mike had holed up in any of the Internet cafes and I was left to watch all the luggage (a recurring theme this trip!). All of a sudden, I was embraced in a bear hug ... there was Mike! While 4 hours had elapsed, I was so very relieved to see him that I did not care. The three of us then headed out of the airport to get a taxi. Once again, even this seemingly simple task turned into a time suck. By the time we commandeered a taxi, had a white knuckle ride though the frenetic traffic hustle and bustle of Mexico City, and arrived at TAPO bus station, it was getting dark.
Since I speak no Spanish, it was agreed that I would watch all the luggage while Bud and Mike would try to find a bus to Puebla. Frankly, I felt like a complete idiot. A policeman came up to me to apparently ask where I was going (???) and it was then that I deduced that speaking louder and miming with my hands did nothing to facilitate communication. Bud and Mike came back and reported that we could get on bus leaving shortly for a 2-hour ride to Puebla for about $10 USD each. Man alive, I thought. This was going to make Greyhound look like a chauffeured limousine service.
 |
| Mike Frazier on 'Da Bus' |
As it turns out I was completely wrong. The bus was uncrowded, very comfortable, with a movie playing and a vendor selling soft drinks and snacks! We pulled into the bus station in Puebla and decided that we would try the same strategy where I would watch the luggage while Mike and Bud would head out on a sortie to try to find transportation to the village of Tlachichuca, our ultimate destination. While we were supposed to have met our guides from Orizaba Mountain Guides (OMG) for dinner there, it was becoming apparent that would not happen. Instead, our dinners consisted of bus station nuclear ham-and-cheese sandwiches cut into triangles and some sort of heavy sticky bun shaped like a conch shell. This was not good (see my last post on Racing Weight). In any case, the dynamic duo managed to convince a small taxi (yes, a taxi) to drive us and our mountain of gear the remaining 2 hours to the village for about $20 USD each. It was now about 9:30 PM. So we set off. Shortly, we encountered, fortunately heading the other way, the most massive traffic jam I have ever witnessed, including my slogging it out in the traffic trenches of Chicago for several years. There had been a chain collision and several cars were now shaped like accordions. Since there were no berms, we hurtled past mile upon mile upon mile of cars at a standstill, engines and headlights shut off. Who knows how long they had been there and were going to be there? The country we were driving through was becoming increasingly rural and remote. From time to time, we would pass through a small village where the only sign of life would be small roadside stands where they served tacos al pastor. We would see a few people in these stands sitting around a whirling top, or "trompo", of pork slowly being cooked by what appeared to be a blowtorch. I started to openly fascinate about what it would be like to sample this culinary delight.
 |
| Will you just look at this pork! Just look at it! |
Finally, at almost midnight, we entered Tlachichuca and it appeared to be completely shuttered for the night. There were narrow cobblestone streets with small concrete houses built up to the edge. We were supposed to find the so-called Hotel Gerar but none of us, including the driver, knew where it was. Sure enough, we came across a trompo stand where a few local ranchers were able to point the way. At the hotel, our taxi driver conveyed via an intercom to the owner that we had arrived. The owner came out and let us into a dark courtyard and (semi-ominously) locked the swinging gates behind us. We were taken to two modest rooms were the three of us collapsed from mental exhaustion, more than anything else. So ended the first day. I would later discover an email from one of the OMG guides that simply said, "We are waiting for you, where are you?"
At 8 AM the next morning, two guides from OMG, Javier Leyva and Alfredo Perea, came to the hotel and took us to the center square of town to a plain, nondescript restaurant. (I will state right upfront that these two gentlemen were fantastic guides from start to finish and if you ever contemplate climbing Orizaba, then I highly recommend them!) In fact, I would never have even known it was a restaurant until we entered it. There, we were treated to one of the best breakfasts I've had in many a moon. It started with dark, rich coffee, served with fresh cut fruit, yogurt and granola. Then, we were served this bread which was soft and light, but had a mildly sweet, full taste to it, quite unlike anything I've ever had. This was also served with a homemade cake. Mike and I thought this WAS breakfast but then another course came out of mushroom omeletes with several homemade salsas, fresh cut avocado, onions, and tomatoes, and pots of warmed, corn tortillas. Fan-frigging-tastic!
Afterward, we walked around town and visited some of the local vendors selling bread, candy, clothes, etc. Pico de Orizaba loomed over the town on this bright, cheerful day. I was really enjoying and appreciating this country and as I would later deduce, my one regret was not having scheduled a day or two just to hang out and absorb the culture.
The next item of business was to load up all the gear and to begin the drive up to the Piedra Grande hut, i.e., base camp for our climb. We drove out of town through corn fields dotted with corn sheaves and where farmers wearing broad-brimmed straw hats drove buggies pulled by mules. In a short while, we arrived at a small farming village to pick up two men who were to help with attending the base camp and do the driving (Juan and Julio). There were now 7 men and a ton of gear (some of which was now lashed to the roof) shoehorned into the truck. Off we went, creaking and crawling up a very dusty, rough road pocketed with chuckholes that could do serious damage to even the sturdiest rig.
After about 1.5-to-2 hours, we arrived at the hut. There was a lot of activity as December is the high season for climbing and many climbers were milling about, including several international folks other than ourselves. Sitting at about 14,000', the hut was a rough and tumble, three story affair that served its purpose of keeping people and their gear out of the elements and nothing more. Bud, Mike and I rolled out our mats and sleeping bags on the second level and unpacked our bags. Javier and Alfredo quickly started to make lunch and what a lunch it was! Fresh prickly pear, where the needles had been meticulously removed, was pan seared in olive oil. This was served with grilled chicken breast, avocado, and tomatoes with a side of Spanish rice. At this rate, my goal of starting training for the Boston Marathon the next week at 150 pounds or less was becoming increasingly unrealistic. Oh well, I just rolled with the flow.
After lunch, the three of us went for a brisk sunset walk in the thin air to take pictures, stretch our legs and to get some high altitude acclimation. Walking past several crosses and memorials was a sobering reminder of the serious nature of the pending climb. As the sun set below the ridge line, the temperature dropped quickly. We went back to the hut, talked about a game plan for the climb, curled up in our sleeping bags by 8:30 PM, and drifted off to sleep.
At 2 AM (now Sunday), I was awoken to a quite a racket. Several climbers were up making breakfast, talking loudly, and assembling gear for their bid for the summit. There was also a trip out into the cold to head to the bathroom due to the Diamox I was taking as a preemptive strike against potential AMS (it's a diuretic). A couple hours later, Julio was snoring so loud I could hear it through my ear plugs! Add this all up and you get a night of light, interrupted sleep. In any case, we were up for good as the sun arose, ate breakfast and decided we would do an acclimation hike of about 2,000' vertical ascent. It was a beautiful morning as we slowly started to poke our way up an old aqueduct long since fallen into disuse. Eventually, the aqueduct gave way to a winding trail that snaked its way up loose grit and small rock to a bench where some climbers prefer to stage the night before a summit bid, the so-called High Camp. To our left was large boulder field called The Labyrinth where many climbers preferred to ascend, while to our right was a steep rocky wall. We continued up the bench into a couloir until we arrived at its head. Here, rock gave way to a snow and ice mix and the chutes leading up to the top appeared quite steep, perhaps 45-to-50 degrees. While not particularly technical nor dangerous, you were exposed and if you fell, there would be consequences. At this point, Javier and Alfredo put on a 20 minute clinic on glacier travel and self-arrest. We all had the opportunity to practice and hone our skills. Finally, we turned around and headed back down to base camp. Mike was starting to experience a touch of AMS (headaches and nausea). All of us had arrived from at-or-near sea level and we had pushed up to over 16,000' this day so I had anticipated one or even all of us experiencing the effect of high-altitude. We made it back down to the hut by 2 PM and ate lunch. A husband, wife, and daughter team from Transylvania, Romania where lounging about and we enjoyed some light conversation as we went through our gear and rested. Mike was feeling better and Alfredo made a monster pasta dinner around 7 that would provide the fuel for the hard day that was to come. I have always had a hard time sleeping the night before an ultra or a big climb and this time was no exception. My mind was filled with thoughts of excitement and anticipation, as I made careful mental note of rechecking my gear for the ascent. It took a few hours before I finally gave way to sleep.
The dawn of reckoning came at 1:30 AM on Monday morning. I had already been up before the alarm went off listening to the soft wind outside the hut. In no time at all, the members of our party had their gear assembled and we gathered around the camp stove to eat an important breakfast that would get us up the initial ascent. By 2:30, we were heading out the door with hardly a word spoken among us. Javier took the lead saying "Let's go" and he slowly started to replicate the acclimation hike from the day before. In the moonlight and with the glow of headlamps, we once again ascended the aqueduct, carefully picked our way through through the loose grit and rocks to the ridge pointing towards the head of the couloir, until we arrived at the turnaround where we had practiced our mountaineering skills only hours before. Now things got serious. We quickly donned crampons and harness in the cold morning air and started to mosey up the icy chute. I was glad it was dark so that I could not visibly comprehend the uncertainty that comes with doing something that has a hint of danger to it when I'm mountaineering. In short order, we all had no troubles getting to virgin territory; that is, the top of the couloir. It was here where the Jamapa Glacier started. At this tail of the glacier, we roped up with Alfredo leading one team where Mike was in the middle and I ran trailer. Javier led the other rope with Bud as the trailer. Mike was looking very strong, much stronger than the day before and he remarked, correctly so, that the coming of the sunrise would provide an "energy booster". Initially, the angle of ascent appeared to be around 30 degrees with no major crevasses evident. As the yellow hue in the sky to the east spoke of the coming of the dawn, streaks of smoke from the city of Veracruz became visible, rising into the air before they were bent at an angle from the winds aloft. The Gulf of Mexico was hidden below the layer the clouds. To the west, distant mountains came into focus including the now-active Popocatepetl volcano and Iztaccihuatl. The massive shadow of Orizaba now radiated across the western plains for miles and the Sierra Madre Occidental range came into focus to the north. I thought of my native Mexican friend from Arizona, Citlali Cortes, and made a mental note to tell her what a beautiful country she was born in.
The pitch became steeper yet as we neared the crater summit, perhaps approaching 45 degrees, and the sun's appearance warmed the morning. My altimeter clicked off the elevation ... 16,500' ... 17,000' ... 17,500' ... I now had the feeling we were actually going to pull this off. Finally, we crested what I thought was a ridge line to the summit at 8:30. At the top, I gazed across a valley to another distant ridge line until I realized what I thought was a valley was actually an immense crater and the distant ridge line was actually the opposing rim of the crater ... spectacular! It was one of the views, one of those moments, that will forever be etched in the deepest recesses of my brain. After another several minutes, we could go no higher. 18,500', the summit of Pico de Orizaba. After Mike and I gave each other a bear hug and high-fived Alfredo, we could only stare at the incredible, and I do mean incredible, 360 view around and below us. Almost directly to the south, we could see the HAWC Observatory perched on a much smaller mountain. As it turned out, this day was Virgin of Guadalupe Day and a multitude of small villages on the mosaic landscape beneath us where shooting off fireworks in celebration, distant echoes of their report audible even from the summit. Bud had been fighting some AMS-induced nausea along with some brutal blisters, courtesy of some ill-fitting mountaineering boots, but had toughed it out and joined us for "the party" at the summit! The fact that he had done this climb essentially coming straight from flat Texas was really remarkable.
Now, as anyone who has read scary mountaineering books will tell you, most accidents occur (predictably) descending from the summit. We made sure to remind each other of this as we began to slowly plunge-step/ sidestep back down the slopes of Orizaba. On my rope, Alfredo had asked me to lead and I had visions of "Touching the Void" going through my mind as I all but crawled down the glacier. While I was determined not to hurry, I also did not want to use the switchbacks we used on the ascent so instead I made a straight beeline for the Sarcofago, a very large fortress of rock we had passed to our right on the ascent. By the time we arrived back at the tail of the glacier, it had become quite warm so we stopped for water and a snack. We decided to keep the ropes on for the purpose of descending the head of the couloir and Mike picked his way down the icy slope, leading us to where snow finally gave way to dirt. There, it was a relief to finally ditch harness, rope, and crampons. A leisurely hike put us back at base camp around early afternoon and we immediately packed up and loaded the jeep for the long ride back to the village.
When we got back, the holiday festivities were in full-swing in Tlachichuca. We jettisoned our gear back at the hotel, had a couple of cups of strong coffee at a local Internet cafe, and made our way back to the restaurant. In keeping with the food theme of this post, I would be remiss if I didn't give kudos to the celebratory dinner we had on this fine night. For starters, we had real tortilla chips and sweet bread with a variety of salsas and queso cheese. A few Negro Modelo beers with salt and lime were added to the mix. Next up was a mouth-watering chicken soup with vegetables and sides of Spanish rice. The main course was pan grilled chicken and several vegetables severed with warm, homemade tortillas (I took a pass on the chorizo sausage). This wasn't any meal you'd get at Taco Bell, make no mistake.
At this point, you'd expect the story to end but there is one chapter remaining: getting back to Mexico City. True to our "fly by the seat of our pants" philosophy, Mike and Bud headed back to the hotel to assemble gear while Javier and I milled around the village square, dodging parades and horses, bidding a trip to Puebla to taxi drivers. After a half hour, we found a young gentleman who agreed to make the trip and in short order, Bud, Mike and I found ourselves in a much too small compact car with gear in every bit of space, including our laps. On the way to Puebla, Mike and Bud were able to negotiate a $150 USD total fare with the driver to take us the entire way to Mexico City, a trip of about 4 hours. Unbelievable! In fact, the driver even knew of a hotel near the airport where he said he would drop us off. The media hysteria about travel in Mexico notwithstanding, I think we were all so tired that none of us actually cared where the driver would take us and simply preferred to trust in him. This trip, and the way it was unfolding, defied every way I usually prefer to travel; planned, logical, and thought out. By now, I had let go, said the Hell with it, and cast my fate to the fast and furious winds ... and I liked it! I can't say I will travel like this in the future, but sometimes things are as they are and you have to accept it ...
At midnight, the driver rolled up to a joint called the Fiesta Inn. It was a gorgeous hotel that had been effectively cordoned off adjacent to the airport. There was a beautiful courtyard with a big outside pool, fountains, and greenery everywhere. Bellhops in clean pressed uniforms whisked our luggage away to our lovely room. The lobby was impeccably clean and designed in good taste. And what might you ask were the damages? $70 USD for the night! I've paid more plenty of times for some rat trap hotel with bedbugs, smoky green carpets, and a broken TV back home. Our driver insisted we get our a group picture taken by one of the hotel staff. Too funny! At midnight, as we were still hungry from the day's climb, we decided to have a second dinner and the restaurant sent us up a spread of food and beer. Finally, at 2 AM, we hit the beds. The next morning, after partaking in the hotel's excellent massive breakfast buffet, the hotel shuttle service whisked us away to the airport where the trip finally came to a close.
I have taken the liberty of putting together a short video that provides a cinematic synopsis of the trip. I've also put a link on the righthand side of this blog to a Facebook photo album. Here is the video:
Tonight, I had a moment to look back through this blog at the many posts. In the past year, I have had the great privilege and pleasure of meeting so many wonderful people, and traveling to so many different places, both in and out of the country. As 2011 draws to a close, I really do consider myself one lucky, grateful man. I cannot stress this enough. I would like to wish anyone who is reading this post a Happy New Year filled with the realization of dreams, spiritual and personal growth, and continued well-wishes on your own journey through life.
At 8 AM the next morning, two guides from OMG, Javier Leyva and Alfredo Perea, came to the hotel and took us to the center square of town to a plain, nondescript restaurant. (I will state right upfront that these two gentlemen were fantastic guides from start to finish and if you ever contemplate climbing Orizaba, then I highly recommend them!) In fact, I would never have even known it was a restaurant until we entered it. There, we were treated to one of the best breakfasts I've had in many a moon. It started with dark, rich coffee, served with fresh cut fruit, yogurt and granola. Then, we were served this bread which was soft and light, but had a mildly sweet, full taste to it, quite unlike anything I've ever had. This was also served with a homemade cake. Mike and I thought this WAS breakfast but then another course came out of mushroom omeletes with several homemade salsas, fresh cut avocado, onions, and tomatoes, and pots of warmed, corn tortillas. Fan-frigging-tastic!
Afterward, we walked around town and visited some of the local vendors selling bread, candy, clothes, etc. Pico de Orizaba loomed over the town on this bright, cheerful day. I was really enjoying and appreciating this country and as I would later deduce, my one regret was not having scheduled a day or two just to hang out and absorb the culture.
 |
| Walking around Tlachichuca. |
After about 1.5-to-2 hours, we arrived at the hut. There was a lot of activity as December is the high season for climbing and many climbers were milling about, including several international folks other than ourselves. Sitting at about 14,000', the hut was a rough and tumble, three story affair that served its purpose of keeping people and their gear out of the elements and nothing more. Bud, Mike and I rolled out our mats and sleeping bags on the second level and unpacked our bags. Javier and Alfredo quickly started to make lunch and what a lunch it was! Fresh prickly pear, where the needles had been meticulously removed, was pan seared in olive oil. This was served with grilled chicken breast, avocado, and tomatoes with a side of Spanish rice. At this rate, my goal of starting training for the Boston Marathon the next week at 150 pounds or less was becoming increasingly unrealistic. Oh well, I just rolled with the flow.
 |
| Piedra Grande base camp |
At 2 AM (now Sunday), I was awoken to a quite a racket. Several climbers were up making breakfast, talking loudly, and assembling gear for their bid for the summit. There was also a trip out into the cold to head to the bathroom due to the Diamox I was taking as a preemptive strike against potential AMS (it's a diuretic). A couple hours later, Julio was snoring so loud I could hear it through my ear plugs! Add this all up and you get a night of light, interrupted sleep. In any case, we were up for good as the sun arose, ate breakfast and decided we would do an acclimation hike of about 2,000' vertical ascent. It was a beautiful morning as we slowly started to poke our way up an old aqueduct long since fallen into disuse. Eventually, the aqueduct gave way to a winding trail that snaked its way up loose grit and small rock to a bench where some climbers prefer to stage the night before a summit bid, the so-called High Camp. To our left was large boulder field called The Labyrinth where many climbers preferred to ascend, while to our right was a steep rocky wall. We continued up the bench into a couloir until we arrived at its head. Here, rock gave way to a snow and ice mix and the chutes leading up to the top appeared quite steep, perhaps 45-to-50 degrees. While not particularly technical nor dangerous, you were exposed and if you fell, there would be consequences. At this point, Javier and Alfredo put on a 20 minute clinic on glacier travel and self-arrest. We all had the opportunity to practice and hone our skills. Finally, we turned around and headed back down to base camp. Mike was starting to experience a touch of AMS (headaches and nausea). All of us had arrived from at-or-near sea level and we had pushed up to over 16,000' this day so I had anticipated one or even all of us experiencing the effect of high-altitude. We made it back down to the hut by 2 PM and ate lunch. A husband, wife, and daughter team from Transylvania, Romania where lounging about and we enjoyed some light conversation as we went through our gear and rested. Mike was feeling better and Alfredo made a monster pasta dinner around 7 that would provide the fuel for the hard day that was to come. I have always had a hard time sleeping the night before an ultra or a big climb and this time was no exception. My mind was filled with thoughts of excitement and anticipation, as I made careful mental note of rechecking my gear for the ascent. It took a few hours before I finally gave way to sleep.
The dawn of reckoning came at 1:30 AM on Monday morning. I had already been up before the alarm went off listening to the soft wind outside the hut. In no time at all, the members of our party had their gear assembled and we gathered around the camp stove to eat an important breakfast that would get us up the initial ascent. By 2:30, we were heading out the door with hardly a word spoken among us. Javier took the lead saying "Let's go" and he slowly started to replicate the acclimation hike from the day before. In the moonlight and with the glow of headlamps, we once again ascended the aqueduct, carefully picked our way through through the loose grit and rocks to the ridge pointing towards the head of the couloir, until we arrived at the turnaround where we had practiced our mountaineering skills only hours before. Now things got serious. We quickly donned crampons and harness in the cold morning air and started to mosey up the icy chute. I was glad it was dark so that I could not visibly comprehend the uncertainty that comes with doing something that has a hint of danger to it when I'm mountaineering. In short order, we all had no troubles getting to virgin territory; that is, the top of the couloir. It was here where the Jamapa Glacier started. At this tail of the glacier, we roped up with Alfredo leading one team where Mike was in the middle and I ran trailer. Javier led the other rope with Bud as the trailer. Mike was looking very strong, much stronger than the day before and he remarked, correctly so, that the coming of the sunrise would provide an "energy booster". Initially, the angle of ascent appeared to be around 30 degrees with no major crevasses evident. As the yellow hue in the sky to the east spoke of the coming of the dawn, streaks of smoke from the city of Veracruz became visible, rising into the air before they were bent at an angle from the winds aloft. The Gulf of Mexico was hidden below the layer the clouds. To the west, distant mountains came into focus including the now-active Popocatepetl volcano and Iztaccihuatl. The massive shadow of Orizaba now radiated across the western plains for miles and the Sierra Madre Occidental range came into focus to the north. I thought of my native Mexican friend from Arizona, Citlali Cortes, and made a mental note to tell her what a beautiful country she was born in.
 |
| Javier and Bud with the moon over the mountain shadow. |
 |
| Humbling. |
When we got back, the holiday festivities were in full-swing in Tlachichuca. We jettisoned our gear back at the hotel, had a couple of cups of strong coffee at a local Internet cafe, and made our way back to the restaurant. In keeping with the food theme of this post, I would be remiss if I didn't give kudos to the celebratory dinner we had on this fine night. For starters, we had real tortilla chips and sweet bread with a variety of salsas and queso cheese. A few Negro Modelo beers with salt and lime were added to the mix. Next up was a mouth-watering chicken soup with vegetables and sides of Spanish rice. The main course was pan grilled chicken and several vegetables severed with warm, homemade tortillas (I took a pass on the chorizo sausage). This wasn't any meal you'd get at Taco Bell, make no mistake.
At this point, you'd expect the story to end but there is one chapter remaining: getting back to Mexico City. True to our "fly by the seat of our pants" philosophy, Mike and Bud headed back to the hotel to assemble gear while Javier and I milled around the village square, dodging parades and horses, bidding a trip to Puebla to taxi drivers. After a half hour, we found a young gentleman who agreed to make the trip and in short order, Bud, Mike and I found ourselves in a much too small compact car with gear in every bit of space, including our laps. On the way to Puebla, Mike and Bud were able to negotiate a $150 USD total fare with the driver to take us the entire way to Mexico City, a trip of about 4 hours. Unbelievable! In fact, the driver even knew of a hotel near the airport where he said he would drop us off. The media hysteria about travel in Mexico notwithstanding, I think we were all so tired that none of us actually cared where the driver would take us and simply preferred to trust in him. This trip, and the way it was unfolding, defied every way I usually prefer to travel; planned, logical, and thought out. By now, I had let go, said the Hell with it, and cast my fate to the fast and furious winds ... and I liked it! I can't say I will travel like this in the future, but sometimes things are as they are and you have to accept it ...
 |
| Acting like idiots in the back of a cab :-) |
I have taken the liberty of putting together a short video that provides a cinematic synopsis of the trip. I've also put a link on the righthand side of this blog to a Facebook photo album. Here is the video:
Tonight, I had a moment to look back through this blog at the many posts. In the past year, I have had the great privilege and pleasure of meeting so many wonderful people, and traveling to so many different places, both in and out of the country. As 2011 draws to a close, I really do consider myself one lucky, grateful man. I cannot stress this enough. I would like to wish anyone who is reading this post a Happy New Year filled with the realization of dreams, spiritual and personal growth, and continued well-wishes on your own journey through life.
