Leaving a piece of our hearts in the Huasteca Potosina Region of Mexico.

  An early start gifted by the fruit cocktail of tropical bird songs, we said goodbye to Cascada de Minas Viejas and headed deeper into the jungle. Our backs quickly creating pools against the seat covers was irritating at first but we seem to be getting used to it. Sweating at nine o’clock in the morning is just routine. With humidity comes a world so rich and nourishing, you’ll dream of it when you’re gone. Our waterfall tour continues, and at this point I don’t think we will ever dry out.

  Next on our list goes by the name of Cascada de Aguacate. Different from a normal entry to a waterfall, we are directed down a series of spiral stairs. Our shoes reach the final step and to our right a thick and powerful stream falls gracefully into a dark pool. The breeze from the height of the drop cools our warm skin and we’re once again left speechless. We notice the generosity of the waterfall as it branches in both directions down the canyon. A small trail leads us to another pool down the canyon which can only be described as medicine. Water so clear the fish have no chance to hide, vines dipping their tips in the surface to add some extra nutrients and soil so rich it has plenty to share. We drop what’s left of our sticky clothing and cleanse for a short while. Places like this feel sacred. We share gratitudes and many smiles before deciding it was time to find camp.

  Locating free camping in the Huasteca region has proven to be rather difficult. Thankfully, after a couple hours of navigating through sugar cane fields, a spot on the river presents itself. Unfortunately, every rose has its thorn, and we spent the night murdering a small insect village that chose the Chinook as its late night party stop.

 
  With the dance of the bugs behind us, we moved to higher ground to get some work done. A sugar cane field with no trees is optimal for Starlink to work his magic, so we spend the morning drinking coffee and watching locals zip by on scooters heading into the fields to work. And then, an old ford that truly should not be anywhere but rotting in a field pulls up in front of the Chinook blocking us in. It is in moments like this where your senses and intuition work overtime together to gather as much information as possible before action. Is he dangerous? Does he want money? How many people are there? Where is our nearest weapon? Do we hide the laptop? Are we trespassing? How far are we away from a town with a police station? The hairs on the back of my neck stand up high as a tiny elderly Mexican sporting a fancy cowboy hat wanders over. Matthew hangs out the window and says good morning and I hope we get one in return. A broken smile and a handshake affirms we had been overthinking. Our 78 year old Mexican grandpa owns the land as far as we can see. For the next couple hours work was put on hold while Matthew tried to interpret his Spanish and they shared breakfast beers. He spoke no English, so it was exhausting at times, but his kindness was infectious and we loved every minute spent with him.

  Forcing ourselves to slow down and spend time in more rural areas of Mexico has opened our minds and hearts to the people and what they encompass. Not so different from our lives back home, you just wouldn’t know looking from the outside in. If you pay attention, you’ll notice parents dropping their kids off at school. They’re not driving massive SUVs because they don’t need them, a scooter works just fine, and is a quarter of the price. You’ll see those parents dressed up for work, which may not be in an office at the top of a sky scraper, but it’s work and it gives them purpose. A storefront may look run down to you from the outside, but to the man sweeping the front step, that’s his empire. You’ll see young kids carrying paper mache school projects, and a bustle around the local flower stand on Mothers Day. Maybe you’ll catch a glimpse of a mechanic cracking a beer after a long day of work or a girl dressing up for her first date. I promise you’ll see a wealth gap, and struggle and politics, just like at home. You will see love and you will see hate. Mexico has taught us to stop being tourists and just be humans. We’re all battling this life together, just on different scales.

  Our waterfall tour must go on! As we continue to soak ourselves in the Huasteca region, our eyes continually get lost in the green and our skin plumps with the heat. A campsite by the name of Altrancon had been recommended to us, and almost immediately we find out why. A small sugar cane field off the side of the road hides a pocket of paradise no one can prepare themselves for. When our tires meet a field of groomed grass a gangly Caucasian man jogs over and directs us to our options. Where his finger lands, our hearts follow. The site we have chosen is beside a private lagoon fixed with a perfect waterfall, rope swing and picture perfect trees hugging the exterior. How are we the only ones here?

  Matthew instantly channels his inner child and explores nature’s playground fit for Tarzan. The perfectly turquoise coloured water in our lagoon feeds into a river of adventure. Rope swings hang over different variations of pools and waterfalls and we’re jumping, flipping, spinning, flying off everything in sight. This river jungle gym is loved by locals, as they watch their kids play with Micheladas in hand. When I lay on my back and see what’s above, mother trees look back at me as they reach their branches to the sun. Ancient moss has chosen these branches as their home and shift in the wind with grace. Assorted cacti and bright tropical flowers have also made themselves comfortable on mother’s larger stems and song birds take what’s left. With my ears slightly submerged, I can hear the twirling of neighbouring waterfalls and tiny feet fluttering to stay afloat. This place is so incredibly special. Will I ever stop saying that?

  After a full day and night of not seeing another camper at our site, we emerge from the Chinook on a Friday morning to the sounds of a large bus. Uh oh, was our first reaction. And just like that, within hours, hundreds of Mexican families turned an empty piece of land into a riverside festival. Tents quickly were set up meters away from us, and the chinook’s hood acted as a table for strangers. Our once private lagoon now holds thirty people all holding huge Corona bottles and the accordion blares from large speakers. Tension was high initially, it was loud and our privacy diminished. Thankfully, all it took were a couple smiles, and we chose to embrace it. We start saying yes. Candy carts come by and we say yes, some men cheer Matthew on for another backflip, he says yes. A group comes over and wants to know about the Chinook, we say yes. And then our curious neighbours stayed as the light changed and soon the true fiesta began. From Guanajuato, a town we clearly shouldn’t have skipped, these people gave us our favourite night of the trip so far. Generously feeding us beers and other drinks, we stumbled through translation and our bare feet stomped to their favourite songs. We shared stories and laughter and connected. What started as resistance very quickly turned into an experience we had been craving, true human connection.