Santiago Apoala July 4, 2023
Our rented van is filled—Cesar the alcoholic driver, Angel the leader in the front seat, and ten english-speaking travelers—heading 70 km (2 hours) into the dry northern hills, in the heart of Mixta country. The destination is Apoala, a sacred site and natural wonder.
Like other desert paradises we have visited in the vicinity, as in Hieve el Agua to the east, and to the west Zapotec country, it is rare and coveted terrain, a thin ribbon of lushness carved into a desolate landscape. Those prizing the water include Santiago, the tranquil village of 2000 natives living within the canyon.
But there is also the mystical aspect that this place is central to the Mixta origin myth. Apoala receives traveling pilgrims. Signs of adoration are old and hidden—a beautiful shrine high on the cliff of the stone tower at the the entrance of the canyon narrows. One must search to see it—it is so inaccessible—yet Mixta faithful once conducted meticulous masonry on its precarious perches.
One traveler who was captivated by this marvel a few years ago, Antonio Recamier was so inspired as to publish an elegant description. His short piece begins with a long quote. It is unattributed, leading me to suspect that the author may, in fact, be quoting himself:
“I dream that I can see myself walking among a ghost forest of thousand-year-old oak trees, with hanging strands of moss swaying slightly in the soft, chilly wind, floating spectres of the past that watch me pass by. I follow the narrow path upstream. It leads to a beautiful enchanted emerald waterfall, the cool mist enveloping my face and arms as the water crashes down. Walking again, the river’s course leads me upstream, along canals that surround parcels of tall crops made of pure gold, dancing in the wind, dancing to the beat of the water that surrounds them, clear as crystal. I reach the far end, up where the river parts the land and twin stone titans rise above to keep watch of its most precious treasure. I descend deep inside a cave where I encounter this treasure: a water source, a spring, which gives life to all that rests in this iridescent Garden of Eden. It is just like the spring mentioned in the local legends, giving life to the two trees that, in turn, created a civilisation. Apoala, where the Mixtec Gods created the Mixtec man.”
We arrive at the entrance to Apoala nature reserve hungry and thirsty. We are at 6500 feet, only a 1000 feet higher than the city, but just enough to feel the unusual cool. Memelitas and beers are consumed with abandon. Many begin the hike bloated and sleepy.
We head upstream, crossing a clear babbling brook teeming with oak, ficus, and piny succulents. Various ferns proliferate—Oliver Sacks missed this place on his scientific expedition. Birdsong and cascades become the soundtrack. Everyone is entranced in a blissful state as we enter the short narrows, the most spectacular feature of this place, where raptors ride the updrafts. Oddly, no one else seems to be here, as the other visitors all flock downstream toward the advertised waterfall attraction, leaving the best for us here right now. I wish I had worn my Tevas.
We have an idiosyncratic crew. Three of the loudest are California college women from San Diego, and they are so classically Valley-Girl type that they could play themselves on SNL’s “The Californians.” They are Barbies in the flesh, they love new clothes and cool cars and lots of mescal. And they are all from Oaxaca. Even though two were born in San Diego, they retain the information and language of their place of origin.
We have previously reported on the size and influence of these Oaxacalifornians, which, in southern California, number around 300,000. This is a voting block unto itself, with its own representation in city administration. And they are the most Californian people in the state, as they not only prize crass consumerism but fairly worship it. They are perfect emissaries for gross American culture, and I cannot stand them. I step away quickly when the video sessions are recorded for followers back home.
Late in the afternoon, Cesar finishes his beer and gets into the van. The Oaxacalifornians have a great YouTube in store, but now they are dozing, silent for the first time. As for everyone, Apoala has entranced them.