The Water Boils March 5, 2023
Maybe it was the earthquake of 6.2 last night that shook the screws, but my seismic clock has reset. I grab Vanessa and we bolt for Hierve El Agua.
The Colectivo taxi from the Stadium to Mitla costs 50 pesos and takes about an hour, or longer, if you are suddenly required to evacuate the taxi in Tlacolula and find another for the rest of route.
To kill time, Vanessa polls the 6 in the taxi regarding Aluxes, the magical little Maya goblins that have made news lately. AMLO posted a dark photo of something sitting in a tree in Yucatan, with glowing eyes and apparently mischievous intent. The President then suggested, with a straight face, that superstitious beliefs should not be dismissed so quickly. Critics scoffed at his embrace of such delusions, but not a word is said when the Virgin Mary appears in a piece of toast.
As we are traveling in Zapotec country, no one in the taxi has experience with the Aluxes, the Maya version of fairies, although the driver does confess that a number of taxistas have encountered bad luck on this very road. In each case, the car became disabled, whether by engine failure or a flat tire, and each incident was preceded by a strange sight—a very young girl walking alone beside the road. In Trinidad I had heard similar stories, although those spooky children are said to have reversed hands and backward feet—to which the taxi driver says nothing.
We reach Mitla by mid-morning and scramble to find a ride for the last leg of our trip. The route to Hierve el Agua is slightly daunting: A dirt road winds its way up a series of switchbacks, climbing from about 5500’ to a steep mountain pass 2000’ above, then down the other side. Taxis will not go there, so the only option is to climb into the back of repurposed truck. Fare is 75 pesos for this “Colectivo”, which is basically a pickup with aluminum benches. Children hang out the back to wave at the air, while elders hang on to anything they can find for dear life.
There is one of these death traps gassed and ready to go, but the driver requires 12 passengers to make it financially feasible. When he says that we can leave with just 11 people but it will cost us each an additional 7 pesos (about 30 cents), some of the frugal travelers fume at the injustice. They are further aggrieved to find that locals have set up an impromptu toll booth on the dirt road—20 pesos per person. Some of the riders balk, but in a place with such poverty, everyone can use a bite of the tourist apple. I gladly pay the man and keep my eyes peeled for young unattended girls along the roadside.
Near the summit, yellow pine trees appear and a hot desert breeze blows. Deciduous trees are losing their leaves at this point in the dry season, leaving most of the greenery to Nopales and Saguaros. The valley below is lined with maguey—the stuff of mezcal and pulque—while the desolate limestone hillsides are left for subsistence farmers to grow corn as far up as they dare. After yesterday’s earthquake, some may be reconsidering their decisions.
We have not yet seen any flowing water in Oaxaca today, but this changes when we make our descent to Hierve el Aqua—The Water Boils. At 5500’, a small village of venders has grown around this peculiar source of sustenance. Everything here sits on white travertine, formed by the mineral springs, which bubble up through pools and small cones. This place looks like a geyser basin. However, the water is not hot. The bubbles are likely carbon dioxide, an essential ingredient for the calcium flowstone that coats the cliff for hundreds of feet. From a distance, it resembles a petrified avalanche.
Zopilotes, the black-headed Mexican Vultures, soar effortlessly above the parched landscape on the rising thermal winds, their wing tips extended like five fingers. Children throw corn chips at them without realizing that good dead samaritans make the preferred meal for these scavengers.
Narrow canals have been fashioned into the limestone matrix, which are of Zapotec origin and indicate the historical significance of this peculiar water source. Some of the large pools around the vents have been “improved” and made into infinity pools for swimmers and sunbathers. The entrance fee is 50 pesos. Adjacent changing rooms charge 5 pesos—even to use the toilet!—which seems like a misguided decision for a public swimming pool.
And, yes, the 20-pesos toll is collected on the return as well. Yet another bite. Otra Mordida de Hierve el Agua.