Well we're all back now, safe and sound but to a chillier England which is intermittently being covered in snow. Or as Folly put it 'back to drinking warm beer in a cold place rather than the other way around'.
Although we didn't quite reach the 'Dead City', we're never the less very pleased with what we did manage to achieve. As detailed maps of what lies ahead simply aren't available, the GPS data we obtained will allow us to accurately purchase the next best thing, satellite photography. As this is expensive and sold by the square mile, we can now specify precisely what we need which will make it significantly more affordable.
For the last couple of days, we’ve been tracing the course of our river upstream from where it joins it’s cousin, the Papaloapan, near to the town of Cosamaloapan. It’s not a pleasant place and the presence of more than half a dozen heavily armed state security policeman in the town square even at lunch time, indicated a lively nature and a dangerous place for gringos laden with expensive technology to be come nightfall. But in very different times, this is where our French naturalist originally departed from and subsequently spent 10 or 11 days we estimate, paddling upstream looking for the source.
Just outside Oaxaca we headed the expedition vehicle up into the Sierra Juarez mountains, named after one of Mexico’s most famous leaders who was born in these parts. Twisting almost unceasingly, we bounced along the patchwork quilt road surface, climbing ever higher until we eventually topped out at a little over 9600 feet. As we began the equally tortuous decent, the transition from the more arid Pacific side into the humid Gulf coast climate was unmistakable, with exquisite flowering trees and lush ferns crowding the road and natural springs gushing out every few miles.
First of all, we'd better introduce you to a new member of our team. Sherpa Fran has bravely decided to join us on this expedition and as tradition dictates, it was Guinness at the airport before departure.
