However, I only got to see the new archaeological
work from afar and none too well. As always, the site is magnificent.
I spent more time hiking through trails to get a better feel for the place. A Visit to the Lacandón Area and Piedras Negras, Guatemala, 2003
by Dwayne Shreve
For a long time, I had wanted to get to the Maya ruins at Piedras Negras, but other things always seemed to get in the way. The reason for me finally going to see these significant ruins was to do it before the dams that Presidente Fox wants to build can inundate that site and other local treasures of the Maya. I also figured on visiting Yaxchilán again and seeing Lacanhá Chansayab, the Lacandón village. My original plan was to meet up with a friend in Palenque, Mexico, to share expenses to see these places. However, the fellow had a sudden medical problem with later complications and could not go.
Although I was going alone, I still had some sort of a viable plan, because I had been in contact with Dave Pentecost, one of the many who are trying to stop the dam. His weblog gives regular updates as to progress and events in the effort. It was he who told me about Willy Fonseca, the owner of Vallescondido, the restaurant that serves all the tour buses on their way to Yaxchilán and Bonampák. It turns out that Willy also does an actual day trip to the ruins at Piedras Negras. Unfortunately, Dave did not have the man's telephone number, but I knew where his restaurant is and I planned to get there and see other sights as well.
Flying into Mexico City, I had planned on taking an overnight bus to Palenque, because the airfares onward had been so expensive on the Internet. However, I checked out the Aviacsa ticket counter and found a flight to Villahermosa that ended up costing a mere $94, which was less than online prices I had seen. I thought it was leaving at 1300 something hours and booked. It turned out that it was flight 313, but it was leaving at 15:40. Had I known, I would have checked Mexicana and found an earlier flight, but I was stuck with it. Fortunately, I had brought a good number of books along.
My two seatmates were a young man and woman who were speaking Spanish, although he was obviously of the Spanish as a second language persuasion. We chatted and I told them my idea of avoiding the high cost of cabs at the airport by hiking toward the highway and just heading east to Palenque. They were planning on staying there at Mayabell. I mentioned my plan to stay at El Panchan and they looked in their guide book and read about it.
When I arrived at the Villahermosa airport, out of curiosity I asked how much it was to take me to the highway, but they were only interested in getting $10 to take people into town. So I headed onward toward the highway. Another cabbie on his way back from dropping a passenger off at the airport, stopped. When I told him I was just heading to the highway, he offered to take me for $1. That sounded fine, so I got in.
After standing around for a while and having two combi buses pass me by without stopping, I decided that the better idea might be to head into town and get on a bus from there. I flagged down another cabbie and got an offer to take me in for $2. I took it and on the way there he and I talked. I found out that that cabs that drop people off at the airport cannot pick up passengers and the price for those who came there just to pick up passengers was kept very high. This sounded very much like the airport at Cancún.
The driver was very helpful, he told me that there are two second class bus stations and gave me the option of which to go to, the first class (ADO) one, or either second class one, but one was much closer to the ADO. When I expressed an interest in either of the two that were close together, he offered to drive me past that second class to show me where it was and then leave me at the ADO. This is what he did.
However, by arriving that much later flight, I found that I had managed to miss the last second class buses for the day in the station closest to the first class one and I had also missed the last first class bus of the afternoon to Palenque. I settled for the one at 7:45 PM and booked it. There was no place to store luggage and a really big store was nearby, so I explored it and the area a bit with my pack on, found a bite to eat at the station and read some more.
Once I got into the bus, I saw the two people, whom I had met on the airplane. I learned that their names were Lars and Solange. It turned out that they had listened to my suggestion for saving money getting away from the airport, but had headed into Villahermosa directly. They too had missed the last afternoon bus.
Once I got down to Palenque it was rather late and I took a room in town, suspecting that getting a room at El Panchan that late would be a problem. Next morning, I took the first combi to El Panchan and hoped to find a room. This was quite an experience, but I finally talked to the woman at the Jungle Palace, who promised me an $8 room at noon checkout.
El Panchan is an almost maze-like area of four hotels that is nestled in a jungle-like setting and has a creek running through it. I also noticed that its popularity is such that a lot of people's first hours can be spent looking for a place to stay. Maybe it isn't be so in the off-season. It looked to me like it would be best to show up around or before check out time to find what is available.
I
left my pack at Don Mucho's Restaurant and went to see
the Palenque ruins. For a description of the site, check this web
page However, I only got to see the new archaeological
work from afar and none too well. As always, the site is magnificent.
I spent more time hiking through trails to get a better feel for the place.
At noon the cabaña was available and I moved my bag in. After lunch I headed into town to hit an internet cafe and buy some supplies. Then I headed back to the Palenque ruins. This time I wanted to come in on the trail right above the museum. Sure enough, there was a fellow checking tickets, but I still had mine from the morning.
Later, I bumped into Lars and Solange again. They had chanced heading to El Panchan and had found a place to stay late at night. They had met a few other people along the way and we all ended up eating and drinking beer while sitting around a large table at Don Mucho's. Our group consisted of a Japanese, a German, a Canadian, two Mexican women, a Dane, a Belgian and me, the Estadunidense. English does seem to be the international language in these situations and so it was there. It was wonderful meeting all these intelligent young people over many a beer.
The next day I headed back to Palenque with a plan to get to Vallescondido somewhat early to arrange a trip and head onward, coming back for whatever day we could agree on. Once I was back in town, I went to the Combi station that goes the direction of the restaurant and is just off Calle Allende. What I should have done as soon as I found that the next combi was fully booked was to head down to the Lagos de Montebello station near the market and hop the next bus.
However, I didn't remember that there was a bus station for those heading south, did not look in my guide book and the city map I scanned did not mention it, so I waited a couple hours and got a later ride than necessary. I also paid more than needed, because the combi people charge a fare all the way to Frontera, no matter where you stop. On my later ride there, the bus charged me only to Vallescondido, which is 61 kilometers from Palenque, while Frontera is 174.
I arrived at Vallescondido and found out that Willy Fonseca was gone to Mexico City and no one knew when he would be back. I learned this just in time to watch my combi bus disappear down the road. This seemed like a very good time to have lunch, a sip a beer and to ask for Willy's cell phone number. The lunch was good, the beer was cold and they brought me the number. With a good meal and a cold beverage, things looked pretty good.
Soon enough a combi stopped and I got on. I said I was going to Lacanha. The fellow asked me if I was going to the ruins. I answered "no" since I had no plans to return to Bonampák. Somewhere down the road, the driver stopped, saying that this was the turnoff to Lacanha. Somewhat sleepily, I got off and started down a gravel road, which had to be wrong. I double checked my guidebook to make sure that I had not misunderstood that the road to Chansayab Lacanha is paved. It is paved, so I was on the wrong one. It turned out that I was at the turnoff for Lacanha Tzotzil. I headed back onto the highway and waited for a new ride. There were three fellow fellows who appeared at the side of the road I had been on, who sat down and began to watch me.
This seemed a bit uncomfortable so I moved a bit down the highway until I was just out of their sight and I was glad that they did not move to keep me in view. I would have continued down the road, but I heard voices ahead. After what seemed to be a long time, a combi stopped and I got on, specifying that I was going to Chansayab Lacanha. The bus let me off at the little village of San Javier, which is at the crossroads with the road to the Lacandón village.
Getting to Chansayab is not a simple matter, since it is a good walk of at least three kilometers just to get to the turnoff to the Bonampák ruins and that is maybe less than half way to the village. Once I arrived at the turnoff, it was tempting to rent a tent there for three dollars. The fellow there apparently rents bicycles there too, but I didn't know it at the time. If I had, I would probably worked something out for one to go onward to Chansayab and come back to having a tent to sleep in there, so it is just as well that I did not.
The fellow there helped me repair my now broken back pack strap and I trudged onward. A mile or so later, another fellow stopped and offered me a ride to the village for 20 pesos. He also suggested that I stay at a particular campground and offered to drive me there. I imagine that he got a tip from the camp ground, but at that point I didn't care.
This place was just past the Lacandón village and it cost $5 for a basic single for the night. Once there. I paid it and wondered at how they made any money, because I was the only guest then. There is another camp next to it that costs a little more and is right next to the Lacanjá River, but mine seemed good enough. Then I arranged for supper and hiked back toward Chansayab.
I found a place in town where a fellow could buy cold beer in a large bottle and met a Lacandón named Alfonso. Since he was dressed in traditional garb, it seemed a good time to practice my Yucatec Maya. It was interesting that the obviously post-Columbian word for beer, Cheeba, is understood by the Yucatec and the Lacandons. Alfonso was rather drunk and eventually I was glad to get away as he became more so.
Chansayab seemed a rather solitary place, but tour buses started coming in later and there were a number of others around, but not so many that people would be standoffish, such as in a major tourist center. There is a gathering place in the campground where there are four hammocks and a few chairs, where people can sit and talk. I met two Americans, Roma and Shay there and there were enough others to fill all seats. It was a pleasant, dreamy place to be in, but finally I went to bed.
The next morning, I located the one taxi driver in Chansayab and negotiated a ride back to San Javier for the equivalent of $4, despite a standard price of $5. There are a number of buses that go by and soon I got onto one.
Most of the buses and combis only stop at the crossroads to Corozal, which is 16 km distant and when I got off a German did too. A few taxis were lined up and we decided to share one of them. We paid $2 each and got into Frontera Corozal. Once there, it made a lot of sense to have breakfast and we did. I also booked a room at the Escudo Jaguar, dropped off my pack and rushed back for breakfast.
This trip to Yaxchilán was interesting and not in the sense of the old Chinese proverb, in being a curse. The local boating outfit charges $50 by the boat, no matter how many are aboard, so the German and I waited around and fairly soon an nice Italian couple and a Frenchman appeared on the scene. We all agreed to share a boat, paid, got our ticket and headed to the dock.
Pretty soon we were off and the ride downstream took a bit less than an hour. We arrived and I thought we would mostly stick together, but everyone soon headed off in different directions. This would not have been a problem, but there was a misunderstanding about how much time we would spend there.
The ticket refers to four hours for the trip and marked the time we left as 9:30. Since the boatman had said that the duration at the ruins was normally 2 hours, it made sense that the four hours would refer to the complete tour, but someone thought otherwise.
After I had explored the whole site and the back areas a couple of times, I headed out to see the old airstrip and the modern buildings in the adjacent modern complex. It did seem different from my earlier visits, in that of the 12 houses, only three seemed to be occupied. It seems that the ban on camping has made quite a difference there in regard to the need for staff.
I hiked around on some interesting trails and once I had seen everything I wanted to more than once, I headed back to the dock. No one among us but the boatman was there and presuming that all of us would be there soon, I told him that I would head down the river along the bank and that he should look for me and pick me up along it. I started out and the way was easy at first. Then it got harder as I had to go up and down the bank to avoid mud or big rocks. Eventually, I got to a point where the vegetation sort of reached out and told me not to continue.
Figuring that my boat should be along at any minute, I decided to not continue and sat down in a bit of shade and waited. It didn't come and finally three boats at once went by. I did not recognize any of them, but the fact that we had been among the earliest ones aroused my anxiety. Thinking that maybe I had literally missed the boat, I started back.
My return did not seem nearly as easy as heading out, but I eventually got back to find all but one of us ready to go. We all sat around, still awaiting the Frenchman. I suggested that the missing person might be dead in the jungle. Surely, if he were dead, he would want us to go onward and not wait for him. If not dead, I had ideas of hunting him down and hurting him just a bit. I kiddingly suggested a search party for this purpose. Finally, the fellow sauntered in and all thoughts of assault or mayhem in his direction fell away. He is just an amiable, absent-minded soul who happens to be French. Who could stay angry at this?
We got back to Frontera Corozal and split up. The German was heading for Comitán. The Italians went off somewhere. I don't know where the Frenchman went; I just know that we did not kill him.
Later I spent good money to see the pitiful museum in town. The fellow showing me the exhibits seemed to think they were of interest, but I can read about the area Maya without paying admission and there were very few items that could be called artifacts.
Eventually I ran across Roma and Shay again. They had gone to the ruins and were also spending the night at the Escudo Jaguar. They had met two Frenchmen, so we all went out to a restaurant at the local museum for beer and chatted. (although I would not encourage anyone to waste admission into that museum as yet, the cold beer is an attraction). We had a great time until they were closing around 8PM and sent us on our way. Then we found a tienda that sells beer, which is no mean feat in that town. This establishment is run by someone named Cortez, and we bought a number of cans. Then we headed to where the Frenchmen were staying, used some cards that Shay had and played hearts in the restaurant area until the lady there also kicked us out. Such is night life in Frontera Corozal!
The next day I headed back toward Palenque. There was no combi leaving for a few hours, I was in no mood to pay right then for a taxi and it was only 16 kilometers to the junction. Thus I figured that I could head out and maybe get a better price for a cab ride along the way; if not I could walk it. I probably hiked several miles and eventually an ambulance stopped and I ran to it, joking in saying that I didn't really need an ambulance yet. The driver offered me a ride and I sat between him and his helper out to the junction.
It was an uneventful ride back to Palenque. I checked into an inexpensive hotel on Avenida 20 de Noviembre, where I used the phone to call Willy. It turned out that he was back at Palenque already and I hurried to meet him. I described myself as wearing a hat that says "Mexico" on it, he said that he too was wearing a hat, but he is bald. Since I understood that I would meet him at or near the Restaurante Maya, I figured I could find it easily. I got to what I thought should the correct corner, but did not see anything remotely like the same restaurant that I was in when I first saw television reports of the first World Trade Center bombing some years back.
The restaurant turned out to be closed and it was being remodeled. Willy had mentioned the corner by the restaurant, but I somehow thought to meet inside. He saw me looking confused and walked over. He and I sat in the zócalo and I arranged the trip with him. Since it was too late to do it for the next day, I agreed to the day after.
I found that the normal charge is for an minimum of 4 people and is $125 US each, but in my case, where there were no others, I ended up paying $280 US. This was reasonable, especially considering that the good people at Frontera Corozal had wanted $400 for boat for a day trip and $700 for an overnighter, both involving 4 hours each way on the river. These too would have allowed for four people, but the idea of four hours each way on a boat for the more affordable day trip had kept me from a counter-offer.
Because I was coming the night before and it was vacant, a very nice cabaña with three double beds and a bathroom with an actual bath tub edged with stone around the top was included in the price I paid. I also got dinner included. Willy is planning to build more cabañas, so this could become a destination in its own right. It was tempting to use the pond for swimming, but I was in no mood for that since I was a bit excited about being in Piedras Negras the very next day.
The next morning I got up and hiked around the local area just a bit. When I got to the restaurant a large truck was already loaded with a similarly large boat and motor. Although Willy had offered me the use of the cabaña to allow for an earlier start, we did not get away until around 8:30 due to the hectic schedule for breakfast and I could easily have gotten there early enough for breakfast via combi-bus or one of the more useful buses near the market.
Once
underway, Willy drove and I rode in the cab. Two helpers, Alberto and Isaac, rode in
the back. The way led a few kilometers south on the highway and then through
gravel roads, where almost everyone seemed to know Willy. At one point, he
stopped to buy some ice for the cooler. My impression is that he could have had
his help make the ice at his restaurant, but that he sees helping the
local economy as of mutual benefit. After nearly two hours, we pulled into
a small unmarked village called Nueva Esperanza and then down toward the put in point
above the
river.
A lot of men gathered and some began to help carry the boat and some took the motor. Alberto and I carried the cooler with the beer. Later I understood that certain men turn out every time Willy takes a group and they all get paid for it. It probably does wonders for the local economy. He certainly seems to be both well known and well liked.
There was some sort of problem with attaching the motor and finally Willy joined the fray. A mere couple of minutes later, the boat was ready for our ride.
It probably us only took around 20 minutes to get to Piedras Negras by boat and, despite the river being quite low, the so-called rapids were little more than ripples. I know that there some terrible ones well below the site, but we would not be seeing them.
The beach at the site is a bit larger than those along the way, but other than a large black rock atop a pile of other rocks, there is nothing to show that there is a ruin there from the river. However, looking at the rock from above, it is clear that it includes an engraved image.
During the actual tour of Piedras Negras, Willy brought along a sheaf of copies of drawings by the late Tatiana Proskouriakoff, a noted artist and archaeologist. At each significant location, he pulled out the appropriate one to show her rendition of how the scene would have looked back in the Maya Late Classic Period. This really helped me greatly to understand it better. We also saw an ancient rusted tractor that was left from the dig in the 1930's.
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Once we had seen most of the site, we rested a bit near Tatiana Proskouriakoff''s grave. Her stone is built into a wall of the highest building at the ruins. Alberto poured something of a vodka mix onto the stone and stuck a cigarette into an indentation above it, stating that she liked both cigarettes and vodka. He and I drank a toast to her, but I didn't partake of the vodka. We also wiped off what appeared to be some dirt on the stone and rested Actually, it was quite hard for me to rest there. Here I was, finally at Piedras Negras! How could I really rest? I |
wandered around the high area, looking at things here and there. Yes, I finally did rest a bit. Then we headed back down to the boat and the provisions.
The trip included sandwiches, soft drinks and beer. After lunch, we got in the boat and went upriver to El Porvenir, where we finally signed in with Guatemalan officials and also saw the local site. No one asked for any passports and a local guardián showed us around the five or so mounds, which comprise the ruins there. Willy slipped him some sort of tip for this and we headed back downriver.
I had had the option of either seeing more ruins, such as El Porvenir and La Mar or heading to Busil-Ha falls and swimming. After El Porvenir, I was starting to think that swimming might have been the better approach, but then we went to the one at La Mar, which does have a standing building and then we also saw a cenote. I can always swim, but how often can I see ruins and a cenote that are new to me?
Back at Nueva Esperanza, there was what passes for a flurry of activity there as the men got the boat and equipment back onto the truck. Once everything was in place, Willy asked enough questions of the men to see how things were going for certain ones and paid all of those who had helped. Then we were off to see the other ruin and the cenote.
Once I got back at Vallescondido, I said adios to Willy and headed toward the road. He accompanied me and we chatted. However, it was after 5 PM, which was later in the day than we might have ended the trip and there were no buses or combis for a while. Eventually, Willy motioned for some fellow in a truck to pull over, whom he appeared to know. He asked the driver to drop me off at his destination, Chancala, which was much closer to Palenque and turned out to have more frequent transportation to Palenque. As it was, I got dropped off and almost immediately hopped a combi back to town.
This is a great trip for people who want to see something of ruins that are unusual, do something for the local community and be away from the major flow of tourists.
To see how to arrange a trip to Piedras Negras, see this web page.
