Chapter 2
Off toward the Jungle
After a bit too much liquid solace, Frey decided to travel to Vera Cruz, and soon went briefly into business with a fellow expatriate, Robert Barker. This seems to have included selling odds and ends, such as some alligator skin wallets he originally bought with the idea of paying for his trip from resale back home. After finding little success, they were merely content to sell whatever inventory they had left and to head south.
However, Barker did not leave with Frey, and since he soon got married, he was probably side tracked by his heart. Certainly, Frey could never blame anyone for such a weakness, if indeed, it is one, and there were apparently no hard feelings. Herman even left some checks with Bob for safekeeping.
It was around this period that Frey became known as H. Carlos Frey. He also changed the pronunciation of his surname to "fray" from "fry." This not only brought his name in line with Spanish pronunciation of its spelling, but also eliminated any unpleasantness that could have been caused by the original version. Pronouncing it the other way in Spanish might have implied that he was a fray, or friar, and unavailable to women.
In early 1941, Frey decided to take a train to the Pacific coast at Salina Cruz. It was a slow ride, as one might expect of a Mexican train of the time, stopping at every small town, both real or remembered along the way. Being in second class probably made time seem to move even slower.
As fate would often have it, Carlos managed to meet up with a young woman. This one happened to be from Tehuantepec. After the usual introductions, they became quite friendly. She recommended a certain hotel, the Guasti, adding that she usually stayed there herself when in Salina Cruz.
The woman was very honest about her ways. Using the train, she traded some sort of goods from town to town, and she had a lover in each of the major centers. She added that if a certain young man was not waiting for her when they arrived, she and Carlos could hire an oxcart to go to the hotel together.
Unfortunately for Frey, an ardent young man was indeed awaiting her. Everyone rushed out of the train, and Carlos passed the two lovers as they were loading a cart together. She saw him and shrugged, shook her head, and gave him a small smile when their eyes met as he walked by.
Nevertheless, Frey did go to the Hotel Guasti, checked in, and began to meet local people. He was also surprised at the large number of American expatriates.
Carlos quickly became acquainted with a former dentist, who had a small yacht, and whose plans to sail to Tahiti were ruined by the war, so he instead planned to go diving for pearls. He offered to let Frey come along as an employee; however, Carlos was not quite ready for steady work. Being saddled with a broken heart, he needed something far different than that, although he did toy with the idea of pearl diving for a while.
It was in Salina Cruz that Carlos heard about Dana and Ginger Lamb’s adventures as proclaimed in Dana’s first book, Enchanted Vagabonds. The author described a supposed sojourn in a 16-foot canoe from San Diego down Baja California, crossing over to mainland Mexico, going down the coast all the way to Central America, and ultimately, Panama. It was a potboiler adventure book by an author who could apparently remember extended conversations word for word.
Frey noted that most of the people who claimed to have known the Lambs called Dana's book a bunch of lies. Although only one man who claimed to know them would assure Carlos that the book was truthful, based on Frey's later actions it is obvious that he listened to the minority opinion.
The duo was in Mexico, trying to ballyhoo their latest effort, which was an effort to find and write about what they called "The Lost City." and Carlos was very much intrigued with this idea. When an acquaintance invited him to ride with him to Tehuantepec where the Lambs were staying, Carlos jumped at the opportunity. Once there, they spent the evening talking with the adventurers about their plans.
The couple was leaving early the next morning for Tuxtla Gutiérrez, near where someone with an airplane had supposedly seen the remains of a large Maya city in the middle of the nearby jungle. According to him, the Lambs theorized that this was where some Maya had fled after the Spanish came to destroy Maya culture and to enslave its people.
Back in Salina Cruz, Carlos could barely sleep that night. Visions of Maya ruins kept parading through his head. He finally decided "to hell with the pearl diving," and wrote to ask the Lambs to take him along, offering to pay his share of expenses.
Two weeks passed, and there was no response. Carlos felt that he could not wait around any longer. He decided that if the Lambs had gone into the jungle, he would certainly have to follow them.
Carlos headed off to Juchitán to catch a train onward. While waiting for the next passage, he walked through the streets where he had strolled so romantically with Lucelia. In the evening, feeling totally lost, he even dropped in to visit her family.
They were glad to see Carlos, but had no idea of the breakup. They even asked him how she was doing. He told them all he knew without revealing how very badly he felt.
It was after this sad visit that he was sure he had to go into the jungle. He needed to forget Lucelia, and get on with his life. Perhaps, his future lay in some jungle with Maya ruins.
Arriving at Tuxtla Gutiérrez, Frey soon met a pilot, Jorge Luna, who had taken the Lambs out over the local jungle five times. According to him, they had found nothing of interest, and the couple had gone on to Ocosingo.
At this time, Carlos knew very little of Chiapas and its native population. However, during his brief stay in Tuxtla, someone told him about all the different tribes in the area, and showed him photographs, including some of the Lacandons.
Soon Carlos left for Ocosingo, ready for some real adventure. Harlos hopped a second class bus to Chiapa de Corzo, where he later boarded another one to a Chiapas village called Ixtapa. From there, he hoisted his thirty pound pack, and turned his sandals further eastward toward Ocosingo.
Shortly, he came to a large canyon with a stream running below. Having no way to cross, he followed along the bank until he came to a small town called Becerra.
Just at the outskirts, he saw a small power plant, and stopped to ask for a drink of water. The generator operator generously asked him to remain for dinner and to stay the night.
Following a humble meal with the man and his wife, Carlos was shown to his room. Although it was bare, the room was large enough to hang a hammock and it allowed him to get some much needed sleep. According to Frey, he "slept as though dead."
The next day, following breakfast and a long chat with his hosts, Carlos was off, again on a bus. At the end of the line, he came to the city of San Cristóbal de las Casas.
Frey was greatly impressed with the beauty of the city. However, he was not pleased with the temperature, as he sometimes had to wear two sweaters there, and it may have reminded him of the always cool weather in San Francisco. Also, he found it to be quite Catholic and, to him, a bit dull. So he decided to not spend much time there.
Carlos left early the next morning on a narrow trail, and soon met up with three Indians who were going in the same direction, though only to the village of Oxchuc. Always glad for companionship, he traveled with them.
The group arrived at noon in Huistan after a fifteen mile hike. While this was his intended place to stay the night, Carlos still felt a little bit energetic, and his companions were able to convince him to continue with them to Oxchuc. Not much later, though, he noticed his pack seeming heavier and heavier. He realized that he was tired and that he should have stopped, but now felt duty bound to continue onward.
As Frey became wearier, he began to lag behind the others, who would occasionally wait for him, even ignoring his suggestion that they continue without him. Onward they went.
This situation did not seem to make any sense. Nor did it seem rational at one later point when they delayed so much that he actually was well out ahead of them for a short time.
At some point right around this time, Carlos found their lead to be increasing again. He was so very tired and gave up entirely, but now his companions went on without any argument. Although it was only 2:30 P.M., he made a small tent out of his poncho and slept. At sundown, he got up and tried to continue the remaining mile and a half, but could not go far without vomiting. He gave up and slept under a large tree.
Around midnight he awoke again and struggled to start a fire so he could warm up. This effort took half an hour, because everything was very damp. As he was still in the highlands, it would still be cool until he made it into the Ocosingo valley.
Lacking water, Carlos was so thirsty that he took some water from a puddle on the trail. Later, he decided to get his equipment together and started toward Oxchuc.
Carlos arrived in that indigenous village at around three in the morning. Of course, no one was awake. He had to wait around until what seemed like a great deal later, when people were starting to get up; then he found a small hut, where he could warm himself in front of a warm fire and partake of a welcome hot bean and tortilla breakfast.
Later that day, Carlos came upon a reason as to why his Indian companions might have been so ready to wait for him on the path to Oxchuc. According to the Presidente of the municipality, along a narrow part of the pathway, there often lurked several bandits, who preyed upon travelers. Over the course of time, many people had either disappeared or been found dead and robbed.
The most recent murders and robbery victims were of a man from Chamula and his wife. The wife was raped before death. The previous victim was a Mexican soldier. While Frey did not go into detail about the crimes, it is clear that, despite having been bait for them, he was glad to have not met the bandits.
Attempts to track down the outlaws had been to no avail. Most likely with Frey so far in the lead, any attack would have been detected in time for those in the rear to escape.
That night, Carlos was invited to stay in a building belonging to the municipal Presidente. It was customary in small towns to provide some sort of shelter to travelers in the days before regular tourists and local hotels. However, this was not a pleasant rest for Frey, because he was still in the highlands and it was cold at night.
The next morning, it appears that the Presidente arranged for a horse and guide for Carlos. Looking at Frey’s light pack, the owner of the horse declared that the extra weight would tire it too much, and apparently kept a straight face while doing so. Nonetheless, Carlos went along with his suggestion to hire an extra Indian for ten cents to carry that load.
The territory Frey and this sudden retinue traveled through was mountainous and covered with pine trees much of the way. Carlos was particularly impressed with a large waterfall he passed. Although he wrote that it was higher than Niagara Falls, this is certainly an exaggeration.
That night, Carlos stayed at a place called San Carlos. There in the darkness, he could hear ancient tunes on indigenous flutes being played in the distance.
The next day, Frey rode into Ocosingo, but it is very unlikely that he met up with Dana and Ginger Lamb there. In his narratives he does not refer to them again until later, and when their book finally came out after Frey’s death, they indicated that their final reunion with Carlos was months later, on December 8, 1941.
Nonetheless, Carlos was quite pleased with being able to live for $.30 per day for room and board, so he stayed in Ocosingo for a time. He also enjoyed the delights of tropical weather. While Ocosingo may be seen as a small dusty place, it has the advantage of also being flat and balmy, unlike San Cristóbal or San Francisco, and he probably enjoyed that also.
While hanging around Ocosingo, when people would ask him why he was there, his standard answer was "to see the ruins." By this time, he appears to have become more intrigued with the Maya civilization. At some point, he had read Incidents of Travel in Central America, Chiapas and Yucatan, a pioneer work about exploring the Maya ruins written, by John L. Stephens, which detailed jungle adventures in the early 1840’s . Also, he appeared to be more focused in his odyssey.
It is not hard to imagine such an interest. What we call the Maya comprises a people of many similar languages. They have a heritage which is emblazoned in many ancient stone monuments throughout Mesoamerica.
The Maya still make their homes in certain areas of Mexico, Guatemala, Belize, Honduras, and El Salvador as they have for millennia. However, they may be best known for remnants of ancient stone and stucco cities in the jungles of these areas.
The Classic era of that civilization lasted from approximately 200 to 800 AD By all indications, it was a dynamic culture, which, nonetheless, collapsed during the ninth century; most of its cities probably brought down by a combination of overpopulation, hunger, and disease. Some recent studies indicate that a drought beginning around the start of the ninth century may also have played an important role.
The Maya stone and thatch cities disappeared into the embrace of the overwhelming jungles. While a remnant of the old civilization survived in the north, particularly Yucatan, most of these gems of civilization were covered by vines and other vegetation.
These cities were abandoned. Most of their names were forgotten and the locations were lost to memory.
Because they were not always placed in sites that the Western mind would find logical, such as at a river or at a harbor, once such a city was covered by jungle, it was very much hidden to the outside world. It was most definitely a lost city.
Adventurers and archaeologists began to take an interest in the ruins in the 1800’s, and this continues into the present. Many came looking for these lost cities. In addition, the advent of the caoberos, or mahogany workers, beginning in the 1880’s, and the chicleros, or chicle workers, in the early twentieth century, and later during World War II, brought many previously remote areas into the view of outside interests.
Carlos was really only visiting Chiapas as a tourist, but that sort of person was quite rare there back then, and people began to presume that he was an archaeologist. Finally, he got tired of denying it. In a letter to his brother, he even declared, "That is what I am at present."
In mid-May, 1941, Don Jose, the owner of Rancho Chiptic asked him to come and see some ruins on his land. Carlos traveled two days by jungle path, and saw some local Maya ruins. On this route it is also almost certain that he also must have passed through Altamirano, the town where the child who was to be his future wife lived.
At Chiptic, he saw what he described as an area ten miles in length and one mile in width, which he believed to have a large number of tombs. He was rather imaginative in this assessment, but it is likely that there were ruins and mounds to be seen, and vine hidden mounds could easily be imagined to be palaces or tombs. No doubt, some were very real.
Since he had no training at all as an archaeologist, it is probably a good thing that Carlos did not have what he considered the necessary tools to do any serious digging. Most likely, the rock chisel and block and tackle he felt he needed would have caused more damage than future archaeologists might care to imagine. He amused himself by less harmfully excavating with a stick and exploring some nearby caves.
Heading back, Frey had to stop at a river for four days — most likely the Jatate, where he waited for the water to ebb. Finally, it receded and he crossed, and then hiked back to Ocosingo.
Perhaps, there was a bit of the opportunist in Carlos, because, as he stated, "There are many other ranchers here with ruins, and (they) are proud of them. Also, it is quite a distinction to have an archaeologist around the place."
Along with sort of joining the local community, he started to go out with a school teacher. They got along quite well.
A curious thing happened in that over time, many different men began to suspect that Frey was with the government, and bought him drinks; no doubt, they wanted to get on his good side. Unfortunately, following a day of too much free imbibing, he wound up in bed with yet a another woman, who, as it turned out, presumed far too much about Carlos’s feelings for her.
The next day, there was a dance to which Carlos went with the school teacher. Once the new woman got wind of the situation, she marched up and loudly confronted both of them. While Frey never went into any detail about the scene, it is probably safe to say that it was not a pretty sight. Most likely, both women hated him after the very public scene.
It was one day in Ocosingo shortly after this fiasco that Don Pepe Tárano, the owner of El Real ranch, noticed Carlos sitting on an ancient alter stone in the market area. By this time, Carlos’ clothes were wearing out, and his stooped shoulders combined to make him look rather unimpressive.
However, Don Pepe was not one to be put off by appearances. He had been a friend of B. Traven, the author of Treasure of the Sierra Madre, when the man was traveling through the area. At the time, the author was then known by a different alias, B. Torsvan. Though taller, Frey reminded Don Pepe of that very mysterious man; thus, Pepe approached him for a chat.
Don Pepe invited the young vagabond to join him for a beer in Ardinez’s Cantina. They talked, and Carlos was probably quite pleased that someone was buying drinks and not wanting anything from him in return. This incident began what would be a lifelong friendship.
Impressed with the younger man, but having no ruins to show him, Don Pepe, nonetheless, invited Carlos to come with him to visit his rancho at El Real, The Royal One. Having little reason to stay in Ocosingo with two women and their partisans still angry at him, Carlos accepted.
Pepe offered Carlos the use of a mule to get to his ranch, but Frey turned him down, saying that he preferred to walk when he could. Always known as a pleasant man, Don Pepe spent the next two days leading Carlos toward his home on a trip that would have taken him less than half the time alone on horseback.
El Real rests on the banks of the Santa Cruz river and was then the gateway to the Lacandón rain forest. Among those who stayed there at different times were the aforementioned B. Traven, and the American archaeologists, Alfred Tozzer and Frans Blom. Others had come there on their way to visit the Lacandons, so many that Don Pepe had hopes that had so far never been realized of tourists eventually making a big difference in the local economy.
While staying at El Real, Carlos was impressed by the visiting long haired aborigines, known as Lacandons. With their long white cotton tunics and their bows or old rifles slung over their shoulders, they were fine looking figures.
Frey met them as they came in to trade. These were the remnants of some Maya who most likely migrated in from Yucatan centuries before, as indicated by the fact that their language is very close to the Yucatec Maya to the north. They are particularly fascinating, because until very recent times they were quite pure in their ancient heritage.
The Lacandons always strode quietly into El Real, deferring to no one, and treating everyone as equals, except for their ancient enemies, the local Tzeltal Indians, whom they snubbed. For centuries, both groups had lived near each other as foes. After the coming of the Spanish enslavement, only the far more elusive Lacandón remained a free and independent people.
The Lacandón were never conquered by the Spanish or their successors. Despite several "entradas" or invasions in the sixteenth century, and one in the seventeenth, they continued to be free of the Spanish yoke.
They were known to be expert marksmen, and were thought to be cannibals until recent times. The Spanish preference for cities and dislike of jungles, coupled with the Lacandón lack of gold, kept them safe for centuries.
They did not call themselves Lacandón. They were and are, instead, the Hach Uinic, a term used to mean the "Real Men." This is a name whose meaning is common to many other indigenous groups — a name which places themselves apart. Their language was Haah T’aan or True Language.
When talking in broken Spanish, they were also apt to call themselves "Caribes." This appears to have been adopted from the Guatemalan Quiche and Kakchikel allies of the Spanish who called them that in the early forays into the area. The meaning was that they were "savages" or "cannibals," like the indigenous people for whom the Caribbean was named.
In the 1940’s, there were at most two hundred Lacandons facing the onslaught of what calls itself civilization. The longtime demand for mahogany and the renewed interest of the chicleros, probably signaled the beginning of the end of a way of life. There were suddenly more loggers chicle workers coming in, and no doubt, many of either group were not the best examples for behavior that western civilization had to offer.
The newcomers found the Lacandons’ names very frustrating. To illustrate this, if one stretches the point a bit, there were six traditional names for males, K’in, Chan K’in, Bor, Chan Bor, K’ayum, and Chan K’ayum, with Chan meaning "little." Females did not fare much better, because while the number of their usual names was eight, two appear to have fallen into disfavor in the early part of the century. Everyone began life being called Och until they survived for several years and received their permanent name.
While the Lacandons may not have been confused by the small number of names, the outsiders were. At their urging, many Lacandons adopted a more Hispanic type of name. While the women usually took names such as Maria, Margarita, and Carmita, some of the men took on more daring aliases such as Pancho Villa or those of former Mexican presidents, Carranza and Obregon.
The Lacandons’ first question to Carlos in broken Spanish was something like, "What you name?" When he told them, they said, "Calos, Calos," as they had problems with pronouncing an r in front of another consonant.
They were surprised to hear that he had no "kika" or wife. This was terrible. In their minds, no really good man could survive without at least two wives. Still, they liked him, just as they did Don Pepe, despite this obvious quirk.
Carlos’ friendship with the older man continued. Don Pepe’s hospitality was as wide as his girth, and from then until the end of Carlos’ days, there would always be a place for him at the El Real table.
There was no point in his life when Frey was likely to stay very long in one place. Despite warnings from Don Pepe and other locals that no one could travel through the jungle in the rainy season, Carlos went off into it. His general plan was to take forest paths through to the Usumacinta River and hop a boat to Tenosique, where he could take a train to Mérida, Yucatan, and continue a tour of other Maya areas. He left in June of 1941 with a stallion which Don Pepe insisted he take.
Carlos struggled out from El Real along a muddy, slippery path, sometimes walking, sometimes grudgingly riding in the heat of the jungle. In time, he named the horse "Amor Perdido," or Lost Love, after a then current Mexican song and the mount’s tendency to try to disappear when it was needed.
After quite a rough day of it, and after passing what appeared to be some small ruins in the jungle, Carlos rode through a small place called Rancho Zajala, but just down the road the terrain became so bad that his horse could not continue. Being dead tired himself, Carlos turned the horse back to the little settlement.
Frey was welcomed by the inhabitants and stayed as a guest. There he got on well with one he described as "a very agreeable girl," and she was one who made him feel very much at home. Later, he caused a bit of a stir when he went with her to the local well, since that was a customary trysting place. Then, heads turned when he carried a water jug back for her. This was an unheard thing for any local man to do.
That next day, the girl’s brother insisted on helping pull Carlos’s horse through the worst part of the trail, so that he could be on his way, and, no doubt, away from his sister. With this adamant assistance, Frey was soon on the path again, leaving Rancho Zajala and presumably many of the girl’s very relieved family members behind.
Deeper into the jungle, Carlos came up to a small community, known as Colonia Lacandón. There, he found about sixty Tzeltal Indians who had moved there in 1936, somewhat after Cardenas’ presidency began, because of promises of land and freedom from peonage. They had been peons on a large farm near Comitan, but were now free of all that.
These Tzeltal Indians described coming to the area after a flurry of noble political speeches and pledges of land and freedom. What they got instead was wild jungle, the food they produced on it and malaria. A promised teacher did come, but he left soon after, and was never replaced. Some medicine that was to be available never appeared.
Somehow, liquor salesmen always managed to find them, but hardly anyone else ever did. When the elections were due, presumably in 1940, mail started to arrive with promises that no one could read. Then, after the campaign was over the mail stopped, and everything was as it was before.
Only three of the locals could speak Spanish, and none could read it. They approached Carlos with a sheaf of papers, consisting of five years worth of mail and asked him to tell them which papers were important. The only one that really had any value was their joint deed to the land and he pointed it out to them. Everything else was just election propaganda.
The day of his arrival, Carlos hired one of the men as a guide to take him to visit Chan K’in, a nearby Lacandón. Chan K’in lived on the shore of the lake Carlos called Pelha, better known as Naha. Until his recent death, this man was still the spiritual leader of the northern Lacandons.
While visiting, Carlos took pictures of Chan K’in and his wives and son. He and the Lacandón later went out on the lake in a mahogany dugout canoe, so they could get a better view of the surrounding jungle.
In his very direct Lacandón fashion, Chan K’in commented that Carlos should have brought him powder and shot for his ancient shotgun. Money meant little then in that jungle; it was useful items that served as currency.
Nonetheless, the man either gave or sold Carlos a bow and some arrows. While Frey did not go into much detail about this visit, no doubt it nurtured his interest in the Lacandons, and he was able to meet a significant member of that group.
Chan K’in was one of several Lacandons who had been taken off to Tuxtla Gutiérrez, the state capital, six years before, and were paraded around, possibly to show examples of the diversity in Chiapas. Following all the hoopla, the Indians were given a number of parting gifts. The presents included their first haircuts, some pants, and an additional gift for each according to their choice, one of which was an accordion.
Chan K’in chose the musical instrument. It was something that could be traded, and he quickly bartered the item to someone at Colonia Lacandón in exchange for a very old shotgun.
When Chan K’in’s group returned from Tuxtla, they complained, "Government no good. Pants no good. Many colds no good."
The group members promptly traded off the new pants and put their tunics back on. They also let their hair grow long again. They were back home, and they were free once more.
Following Carlos’s visit to Chan K’in, he returned to the Tzeltal settlement to spend the night. Apparently, Chan K’in’s old accordion was still in use, because the locals were using one in a marriage fiesta. The men there were becoming progressively more drunk, while playing the same tedious version of a song over and over on the same awful instrument.
Carlos was staying with the Presidente of the colonia, who was as yet uninvolved in the general drunkenness. However, right outside the man’s hut an argument erupted, and two men pulled out their machetes in order to clarify whatever issue was at hand. Fortunately, their women were nearby, and, while screaming at them, they somehow managed to keep the men apart without anyone drawing blood.
Once peace returned, the Presidente decided that perhaps he, too, was due for some celebrating. He pulled out what Carlos described as "a jug of vile stuff," which was probably a particularly bad version of aguardiente. With this enticement, he invited the revelers over. After a resumption of the festivities, one of the other men put on Carlos’ pith helmet, which was too large for him and his boots as well. He then began to dance drunkenly to the music. While trying to be a good sport, Frey did find this rather amusing, even though he admitted he became "a little exasperated."
It was probably on the next day that Carlos started further into the jungle. Because he had only a twenty peso note, which no one there could have changed, and since they generally saw value only in silver, he decided to tell them that he was broke. Certainly, it could have been dangerous if someone knew he had that much money on him, and understood its value. Broke or not, the Presidente’s wife prepared some food for him to take with him, and he was off into the jungle again.
After four solid hours of walking and riding, Carlos came upon a settlement. He was quite surprised, because there were supposed to be none at all for a few days. It turned out that he had gone in a complete circle, and was back at the colonia.
No doubt, Carlos was cursing in two languages when he started out again. This time, he avoided getting turned around, and made some progress until his horse became too tired and refused to go onward.
Tying the animal to a tree, Carlos went to look for water. About a third of a mile away, he found what he described as "a perfectly formed crater." He could barely see it, as it was surrounded by thick foliage. Once on its edge and peering over, he could see a pool of water far below.
Being very thirsty and quite excited, he did what he later called "a very foolish thing." He climbed down the steep "nearly perpendicular" sides to examine the water. The first part was relatively easy, because he hung onto vines and trees, and the last part must not have been very hard, either, because he stepped on a loose rock, and slid the rest of the way.
Down below and up close, the pool looked very dark. While Carlos had some doubts, he was too thirsty to debate the issue for very long. He sipped the liquid and found it to be very refreshing water. According to him, water was cascading into the pool like a waterfall, and he could think of no logical explanation for where it went after that. There was no apparent outlet that he could see, and the water did not overflow.
This was probably an ojo de agua, or eye of water, which occurs in the Yucatan Peninsula. Because there is little if any ground water, it will flow from underground and produces what looks like an occasional eye of water above ground.
Nonetheless, anyone’s enthusiasm for any discovery can be lessened by being trapped inside it, and Carlos was no different. He tried to go back up, and slid down a number of times.
Giving credit to his Swiss parentage, he finally made it up to where the vines dangled from above. From there, he struggled back to the surface.
Carlos headed back to his horse, and tried to forge onward, but he came to a portion of the jungle with a large number of fallen trees, where his mount either could not or would not go forward. He made camp for the night, resolving to return to the settlement before traveling onward. There was no way that he was going to give up and return to El Real, and face all the people who told him he would fail in the jungle, but he had to rest before going on.
On his return the next day, the settlers convinced him to wait, and to go along with a group of six of their people, who were to take some pigs to market in a few days. Certainly, he needed no coaxing to rest for a bit, and so he stayed on.
Finally, Frey took off with the others for Tenosique. He left his horse behind with promises from the townspeople to send it back to El Real with the next traveler going that way.
The entire village came out to see the group on its way. They even walked with the men for about a mile. Most likely, this was an important event, because they would be returning with some necessary supplies after selling the pigs. Carlos was particularly impressed at how pretty the Presidente’s daughter looked with the lipstick he had given her.
The way was very muddy, and Frey soon marveled at how his companions could carry both eighty pounds from a tumpline on their foreheads and lead an obstinate pig along the trail. The animals’ back legs were tied by a rope from each leg connected to one line held by an Indian. Because pigs are rarely among the most agreeable of animals, each of the men also held a switch in the other hand to lend a certain amount of emphasis to their wishes.
At first, the pigs tried to run in all directions and the going was slow. Frey even began to think that he should not have waited around for these companions, but once the animals calmed down and began to move, it was all he could do to keep up with the rest of the group.
The first night, Carlos was especially glad to have come with the others when they threw together a watertight shelter in a mere fifteen minutes, and put in a pigpen almost as quickly. His companions also started a fire, and roasted some palm tree shoots, which they shared with him. It later rained very hard, but the only things that bothered Carlos were the mosquitoes and the surprising cold of that nighttime jungle.
The next day, the group had a breakfast of atole (a corn gruel), and headed out. The path would have been bad enough because it was hot and hilly. Unfortunately, it was also very wet and muddy, so it was hard to keep on their feet.
The travel was anything but direct. There were no straight paths; in part, because often they would have to veer of to one side or another to go around the remnants of a huge tree that had fallen onto a previous pathway.
At one point, the party came to a small river they needed to cross by walking on a fallen mahogany tree. Frey found it very funny to see the men trying to cross over while herding the pigs, and then trying to catch them afterward. But Carlos amused his companions as well when he missed a step and fell off the log into the water.
That night, the travelers came across the remnants of a camp and a pigpen, too, so there didn’t seem to be much to do but fix a meal of atole, and rest up. When it was time to sleep, Carlos’ clothes were still wet, and this led to the beginning of a miserable night. To make things worse, the site was close to the river, and during the night’s rain, the location was partly flooded, so no one else got much sleep either.
The next day, the group started out after what was by now the usual meal of atole. Carlos was feeling tired and weak from this kind of diet, and eventually, the soles of his boots also wore out. Finally, one of his feet became infected, making each hill more and more difficult, until he thought he could not go on. However, just about the time he was seriously considering giving up, the terrain leveled out, and he was able to hobble onward.
At last, the group came up to a place called Ilusión, which at the time was a chicle center on the Chocoljá River. There was a large palapa, or thatched pavilion, on the other side, and they could see cargo saddles in a row on the bank. This was, in some ways, the jungle equivalent of a truck stop. There were ramon trees for fodder and the mule drivers, or arrieros, would go there to pick up chicle or would pass through and stop there for food and sleep.
Soon, someone paddled across in a dugout to bring them over the river. Once there, the owner invited Carlos into the palapa. After resting in a hammock, he had what he called his "first good meal in many days" — a large helping of fish, as well as rice, tortillas, and coffee. While enjoying the repast, he realized that his companions were still outside, watching a man who they had believed to have no money somehow eating very well.
Being Indians, they would not be allowed to come in, and being very poor, they only could afford to buy tortillas. While he did not admit to it, Carlos probably felt very guilty to be enjoying himself so grandly after assuring everyone at the Indian settlement that he had no money. He went to the owner of the establishment and convinced him, probably with some cash, to provide the Indians with food. Soon his companions had a large fried fish with trimmings to share.
With so many ramon trees to provide fodder for mules, this was a convenient stop for the arrieros. Carlos liked the raucous fellows he met, referring to them as "a tough, cussing bunch of men, but the kindest I have ever met."
The owner of the restaurant/rest stop at Ilusión turned out to be a mutual friend of Don Pepe of El Real. After seeing the condition of Carlos’ foot, he convinced him to wait two days so that he could travel with a mule train to where he could ride on a boat to Tenosique. From there, Frey would be able to continue his travels to other Maya areas.
It was a slow forty eight hours, because Carlos had lost his hammock somewhere in the jungle and did not sleep well. In fact, he spent part of the days resting in the shade of a canoe to make up for what he missed at night. However, with the owner’s hospitality, he did not lack for food at any time.
On July 6, as promised, Carlos was able to leave Ilusión on the back of a pack mule. He left at daybreak, enjoying the scenery from the small elevation afforded by his mount, and they went at a good pace. Later that day, he arrived at a farm called Santa Margarita, on the banks of the Usumacinta River. Once there, he found a canoe about to leave, but was unable to talk the occupants into including him, so he had to wait until the next day.
Making the best of things, Carlos took the opportunity to wash what few rags he still had for clothing. Everyone at the farm was sick with malaria, so he had the run of things. That night he enjoyed what he termed "a good supper of wild boar", or jabalí, and presumably a restful evening.
The next day, Frey left with people he did not describe in a large dugout canoe that was passing by. While the Usumacinta is in parts very wild, much of it is a river of commerce, traversed by a number of vessels. They were downstream from the worst of the very rough water the river is known for, but they struggled past whirlpools. Then, at last, they slid into the peaceful flat lands of Tabasco.
Finally, Carlos and the other passengers left the canoe and walked up to the relatively new train tracks, which led to Tenosique and then to the city of Campeche. There, they boarded a motorized flat car, which, either with some humor or optimism, was referred to as a train. This conveyance would take them to Tenosique. When Carlos later saw the town in the distance, tears welled up in his eyes, to see even this small bit of civilization with its variety of people to chat with and warm tasty food to enjoy.
On arrival, Carlos had enough time before the 3 P.M. train to Campeche, to walk around town. He looked up an acquaintance, who informed him that Germany and Russia were at war. This seemed a good indication that the United States would be joining in soon and it is likely that he was glad to be away from anything resembling a draft board.
Frey also ran into his old traveling companions who had come so far to sell their pigs. He was astounded that after their five day trip, they received only the equivalent of two dollars for each pig, and had to spend the next five days hiking home.
It seemed that for Indian sellers, it was always a buyer’s market, but when they were the buyers, the situation was very much the opposite. However, they needed the money to buy some overpriced goods, so there was little choice but to sell and take home what they could.
The 3 P.M. train turned out to be just another motorized flat car, but at least Carlos was on his way to Candelario, which lies in the direction of Campeche. At that stop, he found that he had to wait until morning for whatever might pass for a train. There were no hotels available, so he slept in a machine shop. The next morning, he was able to leave with railroad workers on a large train to Campeche.
Carlos found this Gulf port very interesting with its Colonial ramparts and seaside location. However, he did not dawdle, probably because of his dwindling funds.
Leaving by train the very next day, he arrived that night in Mérida, the capital of Yucatán state. He soon wrote to his mother saying, "I caused quite a sensation with my beard, ragged clothes (and worn out) boots while carrying a bow and arrows."
Mérida is a pleasant city, but, like most, it is not a place anyone would care to be poor in. Carlos quickly found a cheap hotel, and wrote to Robert Barker four times asking for the checks due him. He also wrote to his mother for cash. He felt that the local American vice-consul treated him shabbily, giving him a mere dollar to get by on, while holding his camera as collateral.
There was a mix up and Barker did not respond while Carlos was there at all, and the check from his mother took a while. In the meantime, in desperation, he returned to the American Consulate. He explained his plight, and said that he would not be able to afford to eat. In response, the functionary there told Carlos he would just have to go without eating.
Carlos was not an unreasonable man, but here he became very angry and threatened to go to the Germans for help, and give them some propaganda about his plight. At that point, the vice-consul loaned him another dollar and promised to try to contact his friend, Barker, through the Embassy in Mexico City to get his money. However, the man made it obvious that he doubted there were any real checks to be sent for.
Fortunately, Carlos’ hotel manager advanced him a few pesos to get by on and paid a barber to cut his hair and beard. He even subsequently guaranteed the check Frey’s mother sent to him after the U.S. Consulate would not.
Carlos saw Mexico as a country where the local people treated him better than any of his countrymen ever did. It is no wonder that he fell in love with it and stayed there until the end of his life.