Chapter 4
Into the Lacandón Jungle
In September of 1941, Carlos was still in Tenosique, boarding with a Mrs. Todd and her children. This woman was the Mexican widow of an American doctor, who had ridden with Pancho Villa, but who much later died of cancer, leaving them only the house they lived in. From there, Mrs. Todd tried to eke out a living for herself and six children.
Frey planned to go to see the ruins at Piedras Negras in Guatemala, as well as Yaxchilán in Mexico, which are not very far apart. A friend in town, Don Pancho Villanueva, tried to dissuade him, explaining that the trip was impossible, because the rain was too heavy at that time of year, and the ruins were hard to get to at any time.
Don Pancho later introduced Carlos to the caretaker of Yaxchilán, Ulyses de la Cruz, apparently hoping that he would talk some sense into him. Don Ulyses was in town to celebrate the national holiday on September 15 and 16, which is the equivalent of Mexican Independence Day. The whole country then celebrates Father Hidalgo’s ill-fated cry for an uprising against the Spanish, back in 1810.
Don Ulyses tried to warn Carlos to not try the trip, but he was unable to dissuade him. Frey decided to leave while the revelry was still going on, and went over to the Guatemalan Consulate to make arrangements. Told that a visa to that sparsely populated part of Guatemala would be both expensive to pursue, and most likely turned down, he decided against bothering with it. Nonetheless, he took a land route in that direction.
After a four hour hike through increasingly sparsely populated jungle, Frey came to a ranch, named Tepescuintle after a jungle rodent. The owner, an old man named Juan, invited him to spend the night. There, Carlos met a cook who was about to go beyond Piedras Negras to a village called Agua Azul, presumably to work. She was to be escorted as far as Desempeño the next day by the owner of the ranch. A nine year old girl, who was temporarily placed in Juan’s care, would be left to fend for herself until her chiclero fathers’ return.
Carlos offered to share payment if the pack horse the woman hired could also carry his gear. With an agreement on that, he went along with them.
The three got a late start the next morning. The old man led the horse, while Frey and the woman walked behind. Carlos described her:
"My cook companion was dressed in blue denim pants and a lavender shirt, and wore a pair of boots. She had a red bandanna over her head, and (wore) big gold earrings. She looked more like a pirate than a woman."
The woman had waited a week at the hut for Juan to accompany her with his pack horse. She told Carlos about how she noticed a pattern, in that every afternoon the little girl went out into the woods. A few minutes later, the old man invariably decided to take his ax and get some firewood.
One day, the woman followed behind to see what was going on, and found the old man having sex with the child. Apparently, she said nothing to him then, but planned on giving him the full benefit of her wisdom, once he got her safely to Desempeño.
At night, they made camp at Los Rieles, a group of a mere seven huts named for their proximity to an old rail line put in years before by a mahogany lumber company. It rained all night, so the next morning the trail was wet and muddy. In no time at all, they were all filthy as they struggled along the path. Somewhere in that long day, they crossed into Guatemala, but there was no indication at all where this happened. There were no guard posts, nor even a sign.
At dusk, they made it to a little farm which was right in the middle of the ruins at Piedras Negras. The fellow living there was from Tabasco, which is also in Mexico, and he had two wives, the younger of whom was Lacandón. While the wives’ opinions are unrecorded on the matter, according to the husband, the older wife felt no jealousy at all, and was glad to have less work to do.
The next morning, Carlos was anxious to see the ruins. These were a major Maya site which held sway over the area during the Classic period from around 300-830 AD
Frey was, however, very disappointed at how little of the site was visible. Those stelae, or stone monuments, which had escaped being sent away to a museum in Mexico City were face down in the soil to avoid weathering. The structures, themselves, were mostly vine covered mounds, so he did not stay long.
Next Carlos began hiking toward Desempeño, where he would soon be back in Mexico and well on his way to Yaxchilán. Eventually, two men on horseback rode up to him. They stopped to talk, apparently very surprised to see a Gringo alone in the wilds.
One of the horsemen turned out to be a brother of the owner of a local montería, or lumber camp, which was named Buenos Aires. He convinced Carlos that it was a long way, to the ruins to go alone, and that he should ride in the company’s canoe, which was loading up at Desempeño. All Carlos would have to do was go there and tell the patrón, or canoe boss, that his boss’ brother approved of including him.
Upon arriving at the destination, Carlos found it to be only two huts, one of which was a long one for mule drivers to sleep in. The other belonged to the local family who took care of the place. There, boatmen brought in supplies, and others hauled them the rest of the way to the montería.
The muleteers who were to meet the canoe arrived with the merchandise the next morning, as did Don Ulyses, who was bound for home and Yaxchilán. He had left town later than planned, having gone on a binge to celebrate the national holiday. Ulyses left that afternoon in a small dugout with his son, while Carlos waited for the men to pack the company vessel.
In looking at what he described as a 60-foot mahogany dugout canoe, Carlos found it hard to imagine how they would be able to fight the current up the mighty Usumacinta River. Once underway, however, the boatmen forged ahead, much as their ancestors had done for centuries. They stayed close to the shore, and paddled against the weaker current there.
In the canoe, the cargo was on the bottom with a covering of boards, and the mass was topped off by some canvas which acted as flooring. A portion stayed open in the front to serve as a cockpit for the patrón, or canoe boss to stand. He used a large oar to guide the vessel.
There were only five oarsmen in the craft, so Frey tried to help, but he could not keep up with their rhythm. Soon, the patrón told him to save his strength for the next day, when he would need it.
Following a meager supper of rice and beans, a rain began that would last all night. The patrón went to sleep covered up in his cockpit, leaving the crew to the elements. Eventually, after he was sound asleep, one by one, Carlos and the other men crawled under a corner of tarp which covered the cargo in the dugout.
There they huddled. With all the mosquitoes and chilling dampness, none of them got much sleep, but at least they managed to keep the rain off. But in the night, the tarp was pulled a bit off the cargo, and water leaked into the dugout.
The next morning, the patrón was very angry to find water on the bottom of the canoe around the merchandise. The men hastened to bail out the water, get the canoe underway, and get out of his way.
After the night of rain, the group forged through a number of rapids which required every bit of their strength to force the dugout upriver. They also spent much of the day alternating paddling with dragging the craft upstream with a rope from shore.
That day, they came to the worst part of their journey. As they looked ahead, they saw a canyon and heard a roaring sound of rushing waters. They were on the Mexican side, and the best way to go through was on the Guatemalan side. According to Carlos, they "paddled like hell." While losing ground against the onrushing current, they eventually reached the other bank. There, they had to jump out running, ropes in hand to hold the vessel. The patrón used his oar to keep the hull from gashing against the rocks as the men struggled vainly to push it forward.
Finally, they gave up the effort, and in unloading all the cargo, were then able to move the craft inch by inch up through the rapids. Then they carried all the goods forward to load the vessel again.
At another canyon, they stopped in a calm area below a large rock to start pulling the canoe. As the first man was about to step ashore, the fellow next to him yelled, and swung his oar, knocking a deadly snake, a fer-de-lance, away from him and further into the water. More oars swung, but the snake swam off unscathed, but beaten and leaving the shore to the crew.
This time the crew did not have to lighten the load, but pulled it through little by little. After those two rapids, any later difficulty seemed minor by comparison. Eventually, they arrived at a small 8-hut settlement named Anaité. According to Carlos, "It was like Heaven." He now had a place to sling his hammock "under a dry roof and away from the mosquitoes."
The next day, the boatmen dropped Frey off at the beach below the ruins at Yaxchilán. The site is a beautiful complex of well preserved stone ruins right off the shore of the Usumacinta River. There are numerous structures on different levels, so that as one climbs higher and higher, there are a surprising number of buildings and monuments to see. The hieroglyphics on the many stelae there are remarkably well preserved and legible, and the entire site is quite a treasure. Once a major force in the area, the city was ruled by one dynasty from 320 AD, until its abandonment five hundred years later.
First rediscovered in 1881, this lost city was studied in the latter part of that century by notable archaeologists such as Teobert Maler, Alfred P. Maudsley, and Désiré Charnay. Later work and breakthroughs in the decipherment of Mayan glyphs have given us a detailed history of the site, and so, a mysterious once lost city has become better known to the world.
With his poor luck in dealing with bureaucracies, it is no wonder that Carlos almost did not get to see this ruin at all. Don Ulyses was on hand to greet him down at the river bank. He introduced his wife and children, and then, as caretaker, asked to see Frey’s papers from the Institute (presumably, the Instituto Nacional de Antropologia e Historia) granting him permission to see the ruins. It is unclear why Ulyses had not thought to mention anything about such a requirement in Tenosique, before Carlos had traveled so far.
Don Ulyses’ argument was that the Institute did not want anything touched by anyone, and the only Americans who had come before — Morley, Satterwaite and Mason — had all brought permits. Don Ulyses himself, was not even allowed to keep a milpa, or garden, anywhere near the area, nor to keep any pigs. Therefore, certainly a permit was needed.
On questioning, Ulyses admitted that he kept a visitor’s list for those who came by on the river, and wanted to see the site. However, the fact that Frey had a camera seemed to make Ulyses unsure as to what the correct procedure might be.
Carlos described to Ulyses his many difficulties in getting there, and pleaded with him to let him visit the ruins. The caretaker finally decided that anyone either sturdy or foolish enough to make the trip Frey just made, and in the rainy season, no less, deserved to see the ruins.
Don Ulyses finally exclaimed that he would be glad to show Carlos around the next day. Being as tired as Frey was from his travels, he had no complaint to make about waiting just a bit longer.
Later, while chatting with Carlos, Don Ulyses revealed that his father had been guide to the archaeologist, Teobert Maler. He showed him two volumes of Maler’s works which had been sent back later as a gift. He had Carlos translate the parts that mentioned his father. For his part, Carlos studied both books while at the site.
The next day, in touring the ruins, they came across a piece of Lacandón pottery which recently had been used to burn incense. De la Cruz explained that to the Lacandóns, the ruined city was a sort of Mecca that drew them for the worship of their gods.
Once when Ulyses was relatively new on his job taking care of the ruins, he saw a Lacandón in one of the temples praying, and burning copal incense. He approached him, and asked him to sign the visitor’s book, but the fellow had absolutely no appreciation of rules or regulations. He even angrily refused to give his name, or even to say where he came from. In true Lacandón fashion, he just disappeared into the jungle.
De la Cruz related that ever since then, any visiting Lacandóns watched to see him get into his boat to go to his milpa before they went to worship in the temples. This episode probably gave Carlos the seed of the idea that the Lacandóns must certainly know of other cities lost in the jungle.
Carlos spent three more days in Yaxchilán, glorying in his surroundings. When it was time to move on, Don Ulyses suggested that Carlos take a boat all the way back, saying that it would not take very long at all going with the current. However, on questioning, he admitted that it would be at least as dangerous as the upstream voyage, and that if the patrón did not know what he was doing, everyone on board could get killed. On even further discussion, he spoke of the many who had died on the river. Carlos decided to take a passing canoe back to Anaité, to get off on the relatively parallel pathway, and walk from there instead of running all the rapids.
Anaité was not far from Yaxchilán, and he was soon there after getting a ride on a passing boat. Once there, Frey strode along the hilly path toward Desempeño, around thirty-five kilometers away.
Carlos Frey correctly saw himself as being right on the edge of a large, badly mapped jungle, and he imagined that there must be more unknown ruins, perhaps, even greater than Yaxchilán within. More and more, he began to think about how the Lacandóns might know something helpful about such sites.
The path was very muddy, covered by the forest canopy, so that most of the time, he could not see the sun. He waded along in water for a mile and a half at one point in the hike.
Finally, Carlos struggled up to a small shelter near a lagoon. This would have made a good place to stop, but the people in Anaité had told him not to, because of a jaguar. Since it was still early in his jungle travels, he did not realize that jaguars are very unlikely to attack any adult human.
The story went that a Lacandón woman with her baby was searching for her husband. At Desempeño, they told her that he had gone on to Agua Azul. She continued on, and apparently stopped at the hut. Several days later, however, some muleskinners passed through, and found her body. Her skull was crushed, and the baby was never found.
The story Carlos heard was that a jaguar attacked the woman and baby. Probably, his informants were just telling him a tall tale about jaguars stalking and attacking adult humans. Perhaps, to make it more interesting, they interlaced it with a local murder.
Frey was still very much of a greenhorn, though, and he decided to not stay at the hut. He actually did see fresh jaguar prints shortly after that, and hastened onward. He saw them several more times during the day, and no doubt, renewed his pace each time.
A storm cloud was rumbling in from the east just as he reached the Usumacinta River, where he needed to cross to Desempeño. After he shouted for quite a while, the owner of the establishment paddled a canoe over, and took him to the other side. They made it to shelter just as a downpour began.
Carlos slept late the next morning, and in the afternoon started for Piedras Negras. He trudged along in "a soupy mass, often up to the knees," took a wrong turn, and had to backtrack. At last, he made it back to the ruins.
The next morning he left at dawn, hoping to find some arrieros and, perhaps, a warm meal at back at Los Rieles. The hot day wore on. His feet were tired and sore, but he forced them forward, again and again, wading through the muck and mud that might be called a path. He eventually struggled up to an empty hut, and briefly considered stopping there, but thoughts of jaguars kept him moving.
This was a serious mistake. Natives normally will stop their travels before the jungle sunset. No one who knows better, and wants to live much longer will continue very far, unless it is necessary. But Carlos, still being new to the jungle, struggled onward.
Sometimes, it seems that the longest days end up in the deepest darkness, and so it was with Carlos. However, the blackness of the night was soon tempered by the occasional lightning of a thunder storm, and he struggled to feel his way in the mire of the path, using an occasional flash from the sky to see what was ahead.
Finally, Carlos fell on his face in the mud, completely exhausted, thoroughly drenched, and totally dejected. He realized that he could not go on. Even if he avoided getting lost in the night, he was not sure how far away Los Rieles was, and there was no guarantee that anyone would be at the traveler’s huts there, anyway. So why go on?
At that point, he did give up. He slung his soaked hammock between two trees right over the trail, and crawled in. Just then, the rain began to pour even harder, and it was impossible to sleep. The Lacandón jungle can feel surprisingly cool at night, and he lay there, shivering and miserable, thinking about the warm house his beloved brother and young wife lived in back in the States, and wondering why he "ever started this crazy trip." He even wished that a jaguar would come by to finish him off. Finally, after hours that seemed like years, the rain slowed to a drizzle, and he dozed for a time before dawn.
Carlos awoke at first light, bundled up his wet hammock, and forced his stiff, aching body to shamble onward. A mere quarter of a mile away, he saw the smoke from some fires at Los Rieles. It was a beautiful sight, but he swore anyway, because of its unexpected proximity, and stumbled into camp angrily.
The arrieros were surprised to see a thoroughly wet and cursing gringo appear out of the jungle, especially so early in the morning. Being good hosts, they nonetheless hurried to give him hot coffee, and let him warm up over a fire, while they heated up last night’s rice and beans for him. Carlos declared that the reception he received was "better than a banquet."
Some of the arrieros were going his way to Tenosique, and when they saw the poor condition of his feet, they offered to let him ride on an unloaded pack mule. Carlos thought that his troubles were over, but at a cluster of huts called Juarez, the river was flooding the countryside. After girding themselves up with a meal of armadillo, the group managed to find someone who owned a canoe to help them cross.
The others prudently placed their packs and the sheepskins normally used to cushion them in the canoe, but Carlos hung on to his bulky pack saddle and mule. He went in after another person started swimming across. He was an excellent swimmer, and was probably anxious to show that he could do something besides ride a mule and nurse his feet.
Hanging onto his mount, and towing the saddle behind him, Carlos was the first man across. Others swam alongside the mules. Soon the canoe crossed with two arrieros swimming alongside it, presumably because of lack of room in the vessel.
Ashore, there was a scramble for packs, and a loading up of mules. The mule could not carry both the wet pack saddle and Carlos. This was a bulky saddle lined with dry grass, According to Frey, it "took up water like a sponge" and this meant that he had to go on foot for a while.
By and large, Mexicans are a very courteous people. It is likely that no one warned him of the mistake he was making by putting the pack in the water, because none wanted to be the one to embarrass him.
The party hiked along the path, wading in water for a mile or so. Carlos limped alongside the mule until the saddle finally dried enough for him to mount again. Finally arriving at Tenosique, he thanked his companions, and trudged on toward Mrs. Todd’s home.
On the way, he saw Don Pancho Villanueva, the very man who had warned him not to go on the trip, playing dominoes with a friend on his porch. Carlos later wrote, "my appearance must have been terrible. He looked at me as if he saw a ghost. Without a word, he ran into the house and came out with a full glass of tequila. He placed the glass in my hand and just said, ‘Drink this,’ which I did."
Don Pancho took this opportunity to remind Carlos that he had warned him not to travel in the jungle during the rainy season. Still, he congratulated him on doing the impossible, and insisted on having a boy carry his pack for him the remaining two blocks back to Mrs. Todd’s.
There, the landlady and her daughter took him in, also taken aback by his appearance. He went to his room, saying scarcely a word and slept; he was even too tired to eat.
Carlos spent a week recovering. As before, he enjoyed Mrs. Todd’s delicious cooking, and it was a good time to let his feet heal. Then he had to be off to continue his journey.
Carlos then headed out for the major ruins at Palenque. His plan was to cover somewhat the same route John Stephens and Frederick Catherwood, the early explorers of Maya lands, had done around one hundred years before, but in reverse. He would begin his journey near Yucatán, where Stephens had finished that trip, and finish it in Guatemala, near where he had begun. Actually, Stephens had begun his adventures on that trip in Belize, but Carlos was not about to ever go back there.
Frey compared himself to those two explorers:
"I would again be a poor Stephens, as I could not often hire a guide or mules and my cheap camera was my Catherwood."
Carlos paid his way across the Usumacinta River to begin his hike to Palenque. He found the route to be "flat and uninteresting with many open savannas." The path was also worn and muddy due to the engineers, surveyors and their helpers planning the new railroad which would go from Tenosique and pass very close to the north of Palenque.
Carlos soon realized that the information he got from the people en route was of doubtful value compared to the chicleros and arrieros he met in less populated areas. For example, early in this trip one fellow told him that Palenque was a mere six hours away, whereas Carlos knew it had to be at least a twenty hour walk.
He made poor time the first day, and stopped at a small rancho to spend the night. There, the householder told him of a little used trail that would not be as muddy. This one went along the Chocomax River and the man gave him directions on how to get onto it.
The next morning, Carlos hit the trail, and following instructions, rode in a canoe across the Chocomax, and found the pathway to be definitely less used. In fact, he only saw the hoof prints of one horse and a mule.
After a good day of travel, Carlos came to a ranch called El Finado de Alvarado. He stopped to rest and the owner told him the story behind its name. According to him, a general named Alvarado joined in an insurrection against President Alvaro Obregon. His campaign in Chiapas failed in 1923, and while on the run, he was captured and shot at that very ranch.
In their talk, the ranchero told Carlos that the man with the horse and mule on the trail ahead was on his way to Palenque. Carlos set off down the path, and when he saw it branch off several times, he was very glad that he knew to follow the tracks.
Later that day, Frey came to a small farm where the owner was alone and sick with malaria, lying on a mat on the floor. There was little Carlos could do, but before leaving, he gave him enough of his quinine to get him well.
Further on, Frey was in an area of forests again. Soon he came to a montería, and had lunch. The owner assured him he would come to another camp owned by a man named Dobernik before dark, and he trekked on.
Carlos came to the next lumber camp at four o’clock, having covered twenty six miles that day. He met the owner, who invited him to spend the night.
The place was owned by a blond Austrian in his mid-thirties, who was married to an Indian woman. Unlike most such owners he lived very simply in a hut like his workers. Although he was sick with malaria, he was nonetheless pleased to be able to talk with someone from the outside world.
After dinner, they talked until 2 a.m. The man, Dobernik was very anti-German in regard to the war. Carlos also learned that he had dreams of using his proceeds from the montería to buy an hacienda, grow cacao, and raise cattle.
The next day, Carlos stayed as a guest for awhile, until in the early afternoon, four men came by on their way to Palenque. Since it was only a four hour walk, he decided to accompany them. Dobernik tried to convince him to stay, but Carlos countered with the simple truth that it is so much more pleasant to be able to travel with others than alone.
At Palenque Frey found a sleepy village with grassy streets. He located a place to stay, and got up early to see the ruins, which are a few kilometers west of town.
Nothing specific seems to remain of what Frey saw and presumably wrote about when he arrived at Palenque, except for a blank space and an annotation in a narrative which says, "Description of the ruins at Palenque." However, elsewhere by implication, it seems that he was much impressed with the ruins. Who would not be?
Palenque is a gem among Maya cities. It was the major power in the westernmost area of Maya influence in the Classic era. It was a force to be reckoned with from at least 600 AD to the early 800’s, when it left behind ruins of unique beauty.
In the afternoon after his visit to the site, Carlos returned to the village. There, someone told him about a fellow American who lived about a mile outside of town. He hiked out to meet the man, who greeted him warmly.
The fellow was a middle aged German-American living there with his two boys and his sister. He had at some point lost his wife in a drowning accident, and the sister was there from Chicago to help with the household.
Carlos described the home as being like "any farm house in Illinois." He felt very much at home and was invited to stay for dinner. Following some very good German cooking, the family invited Frey to stay the night.
The next morning Carlos started back to Ocosingo, and then returned to El Real Ranch. While staying there, he finally met up again with Dana and Ginger Lamb. Certainly, he must have been pleased at first to finally talk with these purported adventurers again.
The Lambs were in a continuation of their much publicized search for "The Lost City," which was to be the basis for their new adventure book. Frey stayed with them for a while. According to him, they had telegraphed him twice, telling him of big plans they had for adventure, and he had great hopes.
Most likely, this meeting started out badly when the Lambs arrived with a local rancher, Don Pedro Vega. Apparently, all Vega cared to hear about was Carlos’ recent trip to Yaxchilán. The Lambs were used to being the center of attention, and so the lengthy discussion by Don Pedro about Frey’s bravery in making such a trip, without a gun or machete, must have left them somewhat less than enthusiastic.
A telling event from this period was one day when a plane was circling to land. According to Carlos, Dana Lamb bragged that it was probably a friend of his from Hollywood whom he had written. Everyone rushed over to the craft, perhaps, drawn by the magic of the name "Hollywood." It turned out that a friend of Carlos was the sole passenger. As soon as he got out of the plane and saw Frey, he gave out a yell, and after greetings, started exclaiming about the impressive trip to Yaxchilán. This may not have been pleasant to the ears of Dana Lamb, either.
From what Carlos later described, it appears that the Lambs set up scenes in photos to make it look as though they were deep in the jungle. He described them as not being able to walk "three miles without pooping out."
After two weeks of hoopla, Carlos and the Lambs finally did manage to go on a trip of ten miles to see Lacandón settlement to the east, which was probably Jethá. There, according to Carlos, he wanted to sleep in the main Lacandón hut, but could not. Frey wrote that he had to stay out near the Lambs, because they were afraid. As it was, while they had a tent that kept bugs away, his hut was invaded by some very active black ants, and he was unable to sleep at all that night.
Even the worst situations always seem to trudge on to some sort of end, and so the Lambs went on their way. However, their book plans went on hiatus, most likely because they had found nothing, and had not yet decided to make something up. Unfortunately, by this time, Carlos had come down with malaria, and had to stay behind, nursing himself with quinine. He left later, describing them as "phonies." The man who would boldly strike off for adventure could not stand those who merely posture at it.
Later, though, after Frey’s death, the Lambs returned to Chiapas, and finally finished their book, Quest for the Lost City. Presented as nonfiction, it displays a series of potboiler events and adventures deep in some obscure jungle. The pictures depict people who are obviously Lacandóns, but in the book they are supposedly of an unknown race, and the aborigine they supposedly enticed out of the jungle is named "Chan."
In this work, in telling of their harrowing adventures, the Lambs describe discovering a lost city. Although their trip was allegedly to advance knowledge, they give no real clues in the book that would allow anyone to find the location. A person could easily read their description several times of how they got to their "Lost City," and still have no idea where it is. They did show a picture of a stela and two ruined buildings, which they obviously saw, but one wonders why they did not give out the information to anyone. Perhaps, it was small, but whatever its size, it is quite likely that it has been found by someone in the meantime and looted. Its name is Laxtunich.
They also described their discovery of a string of lakes which they dubbed "The Mayan Jewels." In that area, these could only be the lakes of Montebello, which even back then could be reached in a day trip from the Chiapas capital, Tuxtla Gutiérrez. Getting there back then would have required a jeep and possibly a guide, so finding these lakes hardly qualified as any sort of discovery.
Because the information in the book was so questionable, no one would expect to find a copy in archaeologist, Frans Blom’s library at his home, Na Bolom. However, it occupies a place on a shelf in a back room, and attached to the back cover of the volume is an unpublished review by Frans himself, trashing it completely.
Nevertheless, Carlos was undaunted, and he decided to continue his trip, going on to Guatemala via a route through the Mexican city of Comitán. A visa for this route was no problem. Soon he passed through Huehuetenango, and eventually ended up seeing the ruins at Quiriguá. No doubt, he saw a number of other places en route, but there is no written record of them.
As the United States kept edging itself closer and closer to involvement in the Second World War, Carlos became very concerned about the possibility of being forced to serve in the U.S. Army. He wanted no part of any war, and eventually cut off most correspondence with home. At some point in late December of 1941, he gathered up what assets he had, and took off for the jungle again, this time to stay with the Lacandons. As far as he was concerned, this might be forever.
The writer, Wolfgang Cordan, gave an account about Carlos during this period, which is summarized as follows:
One day early in his stay in a Lacandón settlement, the men started off to the fields to work. Right after that, a group of three chicleros came in, and began to harass the women. Carlos took a dim view of this kind of behavior toward women, and he held the intruders off while yelling for the others to return. The Lacandons came back quickly, and the chicleros disappeared into the jungle.
Heroes are not always understood, nor are they always right. Certainly, Carlos was very surprised at the Lacandón response to his outburst. Instead of being universally acclaimed as a hero, there was mostly silence the rest of the day, especially from the women. Later, he found out that in their polygamous culture, the women did not always achieve a level of sexual satisfaction that would help insure marital harmony. Thus, the chiclero’s attentions toward the women were not entirely unwelcome from either spouse. Another possibility is that due to the low fertility rates then among Lacandóns, extra genetic material may have been welcome from other sources.
Based on gleanings from other sources, it appears that at some point, Carlos appears to have taken a young Lacandón as his wife under local customs. Her given name was Nah K’in, meaning Sun of the House, and she was also probably known as Carmita, since he once mentioned that name in a letter to deny having actually married her.
From this union, Carmita later gave birth to a child who died very young. It is not clear how long this marital relationship lasted, as he never mentioned it as such, but there are indications from other sources that he may have returned to her from time to time. However, it is likely that this relationship ended within a short time.
It is not clear exactly who this wife was, as there was more than one Carmita Nah K’in in the vicinity. One was later married to Chan K’in Obregon, and the other to K'ayum Carranza. Carlos left almost no written record to describe these few months in his life. Possibly in swearing off letters home, he no longer had an interest in expressing himself by writing. He may not have thought he was ever going to leave the Lacandons, feeling that he would soon have a Selective Service price on his head.
However, in early 1942, Carlos did return to more populated areas. He quickly wrote to his mother that he was sick of the jungle and of recurrent bouts of malaria.
Frey went to Oaxaca, hoping for a job with the U.S. Consulate there. It is totally unclear why he suddenly saw the U.S. government as a potential employer rather than a likely jailer, but nothing panned out, and he moved on.
By February of that year, he traveled to Mexico City in order to get his residency papers taken care of. Shortly after that, he returned to Chiapas. At El Real Ranch, Carlos tried his hand at farming. As a friend of Don Pepe’s, he was allowed to work some land. There, he was again close to the Lacandons. They would come in at times to trade and talk with him. No doubt, their proximity was very alluring, as well as that of Carmita.
Carlos described the particular location he chose as an "Eden." It was surrounded on two sides by the Santa Clara River and he had a place to swim right in front of where he soon built a house. Most materials for the domicile came from the nearby forest, as well as the furniture, which included a mahogany table and chairs.
The house had mosquito netting for windows and an oven of some sort which Carlos built. In all, it appears to have been a very modest though comfortable abode, although it seems that he was not very proud of it. Indeed, the photos he sent home show views from his front porch and of his pigpen, but the only one of the house itself shows it as minute speck against a vast background.
According to his mother, Frey started the farm with his own money, although it is hard to imagine where that could have come from except from her. In a later interview, she told that he only needed occasional help from her to keep it going. This assistance was mostly in cash, but she also sent him seeds to try out. It appears that she was intrigued and hopeful. Certainly, she never begrudged any of the help Carlos needed.
Once his farm began to produce, he went without her financial assistance much of the time. Writing to her as always, he asked for money mostly in emergencies.
Always the dreamer, Carlos experimented with growing locally unusual crops, such as luffa, or cacao, as well as normal staples, such as a particularly tall corn. According to his many letters back home to his mother, the experiments quite often did not pan out. However, he did appear to be a passable pig and corn farmer when it held his interest..