Real Del Catorce...
I was invited on a journey to the high desert, to visit the Sierra De Catorce range which is one of the highest plateaus in Mexico. The historic pueblo with less than 1,000 residents sits on the side of a mountain over 2,743 meters high (9,000 ft). Silver was discovered in Real in 1772 which brought in close to 15,000 inhabitants in search of riches and the town was officially founded in 1779, but when the price of silver dropped after 1900 the town reached the status of a ghost town. Now it mostly relys on tourism. During my visit to Real I found out that there was more to this place than a Ghost Town and beautiful views. The region, is sacred to an indigenous tribe named the Wikarika (Huichol), who walk across miles of desert from Nayarit, Durango, Jalisco, and Zacatecas, which mark the 4 points, one for each direction, to reach the valley of Catorce. In this valley (Wirikuta) grows their supply of sacred nourishment in the form of Peyote or (hikuri) the magical cactus they use to guide their path and conciousness. My friend Memo and I had wonderful luck hitch hiking all the way from Guanajuato to Real. When we reached the valley, we got a ride on a jeep willy which is a super fun ride up the first dirt road built to reach the town. I road on the roof and the views were unbelievable as we climbed the mountain.
Once in the town, the rain started to drizzel and the cobblestone streets became slick. We found the cheapest hotel room possible and went out to explore. The air was filled with the sounds of donkeys and hourses pulling carts. Their shoes hitting the stones beneath their feet. There were a handful of tourists and a handful of locals, and not many options for food or things to do. I bought some Pulkay which is a fermented alcoholic beverage made from the Magey (agave) to keep me warm because as soon as the sun went down the temperature dropped to below freezing.
We woke up the next morning to streets and cars covered in ice and bitter cold temperatures. We set out on a bold attept to climb Cerra Quemado, a ceremonial center for the Huichol. We were gifted a peyote cactus on our ride up the mountan the night before and were looking forward to making a ritual of our own. We set out and passed through ruins of the old mining town, feeling the energy that the once booming city held, the craving and desire for riches that the silver brought. Walked over the deep white veins of quarts running through the vally floor, feeling the power and spiritual connection to the land that has been present for much longer than any mine.
We found a beautiful tree, and sat with our peyote cactus. After our ceremony, and thanksgiving for the land and the people and the medicine, we set out for the mountain. The walk was beautiful and as we reached the mountain what felt like a very soft change in balance, in perspective creeped up on me. Nothing much more than that ever invited itself into my conciousness, but once we got to the top of Cerra Quemado, something extremely special happened.
On the top of the mountain, the highest point, there was a small one room cabin. This cabin was made of stones and grasses, wood and other materials from the earth. There was tradicional Huichol art covering the cabin, and a man sitting on a rock next to a woman sewing him a new pair of pants. I had my thermos of tea and offered some to them. The man was chosen and sent from his tribe to live on the mountain for three months. Four times during the year another Huichol is chosen to spend three months in the cabin, learning from the medicine that is colleced earlier in the spring. We were invited into the cabin. There were deer skins and antlers, tails of foxes and coyotes, and other animals, feather of all sorts from deeply spiritual walks into the desert night and encounters with the animals who he told us were all equal to us. The hearts beat as our do and the give us food and warmth and tools. There was an alter, and a years supply of peyote cactus. Art in every corner, candles and other unbelievable peices of art that were in the process of being made.
He shared his peyote with us, giving it to us with a ritual, and a blessing, a small ceremony and a giant smile.
As we left the cabin, our eyes wide for we were on what felt like the tip of the world. the mountains climbed over eachother in blues and yellows and the sun felt so close even as darkness was nearly upon us. We left, after giving thanks and observing the landscape with great respect. As the moon rose, it was the brightest sliver of moon I have ever seen. We walked back in the dark, in the cold, but we were deeply warmed with our new knowledge of the importance of this place. We had just been sharing a moment, of one of the most important times in one mans life, in one of the most sacred and powerful places for an entire tribe of indegenous people. We got lost in the dark, ended up lying on the floor of the earth surrounded by ruins watching shooting stars. The cold finally won over the magic of the night and we returned to celebrate Memos birthday in the last place selling food, talking about the night over hot soup and pizza.