Leaving the cool side of the pillow we have found in San Cristobal is daunting. I’m not sure we’re ready for the clothes to stick to our bodies again, or the transfer of cold water bottles in the fridge game. We like cooking inside without repercussions, and we sure love sleeping beside each other underneath the duvet. What the heat brings however, we simply cannot stay away from.

  The highway curves through evergreen farmland scattered with abstract patterned cows, misshaped corn fields and rolling hills that meet up with the forest and halt. We notice an abundance of canned goods being sold in huts and wonder if this is native to Chiapas. Speed bumps allow us to inspect every person’s outfit, all the way to their eye colour. I feel bad for the truck, but love the t.v. show. This one’s called: colourful livestock and pickled yums.

  Chiapas most definitely treats topes (speed bumps) like cervezas, where you can’t just have one. A gruelling two hour drive and the air has changed. The breeze coming through our windows is no longer refreshing, and begins to coat the inside of the cab. We are welcomed by sugar cane fields once again as we scour the area for camp. Today we are in the near presence of a cascading giant. Because truly, the only way to survive temperatures and humidity like this is to reside by a water source.

  It is four o’clock in the afternoon when we arrive, just past closing time, so we sneak down to a river spot while some workers on motorbikes pass us on their way home. We like to think we’re “sneaking” anyway. Once out of view of the road, the Chinook gets to finally take a breath while we cool off in our own private river. To our pleasant surprise, the water is cold! Which probably isn’t that cold, but our outer most layer of flesh is as hot as tarmac in the desert. We enjoy a ceremonious cerveza and fall asleep to the water’s perfect white noise tune.



  Cascada El Chifflon is only a couple kilometres up river, and he calls as we rise from a deep sleep. Our tires creep out of camp and down a cobblestone road to the entrance. One hand waves goodbye to our steed, and the other holds camera gear and towels. The tree canopy closes in, and we’re quickly surrounded by animated styles of leaves and flowers that belong on a Hawaiian shirt. We follow the river on our left, and can’t stop talking about the colour. It’s early in the morning, so the song birds are still at their chorus. Not paying any mind to the first couple waterfalls, we advise them of our return after meeting their master.

  El Chifflon stands before us proudly. Morning light parades around him like the king he is and we agree that nature has created perfection once again. I think being silenced by beauty is extremely powerful. And once we’ve had our dose of the king, we rubberneck our way back down the trail to play in the smaller pools. We’ve noticed that with these Mexican turquoise waters comes a different texture from its minerals. The water feels thick, and you’ll notice you want a shower afterwards. Regardless, we enjoy our early morning Gatorade bath. Once the tourists started showing up, that’s our queue to leave, and we’re on the road again. Only a few kilometres away is our first cenote of the trip. A big blue crater labeled the “gateway to the underworld” will have you leaving with more questions than your arrival. 

  A couple days spent at the ghost town pool party was a perfect reset. It was time to press on though, and thankfully these tires have a date with a dirt road. The Chinook gets aired down as we prepare for our off-road route over the mountain standing before us. We notice on the map a series of switchbacks and I can tell Matthew is giddy to be off the tope roads. I am in charge of flying the drone and honestly can’t believe what I am seeing. A road may seem windy when you’re in the vehicle, but from above it’s a whole other perspective. I can see the perfect hair pin corners that follow the cliff side and the snake that has been carved into the earth. Simply a road that shouldn’t be there, but is. Matthew and the Chinook work together in the ballet of an off-road route in Mexico, and I am elated to have front row tickets to the show.

  As we crest over the last hump, a sign hidden in the trees sporting a thick layer of moss reads a totally foreign language to our eyes. We ponder, and when we’re about a kilometre further down the hill Matthew’s intuition screams to turn around and go back. We do, and it’s a good thing we did. After parking, we purchase tickets to see the Tenam Puente ruins, and agree they deserve better signage. We let ourselves into this entirely foreign world in an attempt to understand. However feeling so far removed with our phones jumping in our pockets, and the Chinook waiting for us in the parking lot. Maintaining presence, we walk where soldiers walked, touch the land that has provided for so long and appreciate this treasure left for us to learn about.

  The door opens back up to reality and we're one with the heat again. Thankfully, our elevation is gaining and our nose is pointed towards you guessed it, more water. As we near Lagos de Montebello, we discuss how Mexico sure knows how to add an extra dose of saturation to its colour scheme. Whether it's the water doused with blues, the houses wrapped in a rainbow or the flowers that look like a 3D painting.

  Pine trees once deterred us back home due to their indication of elevation and temperature. Now, we wiggle with excitement when we know we will be camped with them. One by one we cruise by the different coloured lakes admiring the differences each brings to the table. Some hold a dark blue centre and fade out to an almost highlighter blue near the shore, and others are a green I can only compare to when you added green and yellow together as a kid but accidentally dropped a bit of brown and began mixing. We pick our favourite, the one with the least amount of people and set up camp in the silence brought by the surrounding forest. In true Mexican fashion, this doesn't last long. When the work day is done, groups show up for their evening water activities. Some treat this lake like a laundromat, others are washing their cars and the majority is bathing themselves or just enjoying the water. Don't ever assume you're alone in this country.



  Although our evening was filled with entertainment, the night was quiet and the morning sun rays lit up the lake so beautifully we wish the sun would never move. We had an objective today, and that was to address the elephant that has been lingering in the cab of the Chinook since America. Our steering column that we half fixed on our way to Denver has finally called it quits. I must say, I'm proud it made it this far. We noticed a small mechanic shop not far from the lake with two Toyotas parked out front, and decide this is the place to get it fixed for good. Within ten minutes of our arrival at this man's home, the steering column is out and Matthew and the mechanic are deliberating. They decide that it needs a new bushing made which can be done a few kilometres down the road. The mechanic grabs his motorbike and Matthew gets ready to hop on the back. Hilariously enough, he points to the front and I watch Matthew light up in a nervous frenzy. I've never seen him ride a bike before so I'm also a nervous wreck. I wait for the two of them to take off, no helmets into the sunset, but watch the bike lurch to a halt and stall out. And again, and again. I've never met a more confident man, and a huge part of me wishes Matthew could have gotten the bike to start. Alas, the mechanic and his wife joyfully chuckled as they switched spots. I spent time conversing with Elena about life and her bar while the boys played trucks, and I'll never forget the kindness found in unexpected places. With the steering fixed, and new friends made, we promised to return and hit the dusty track again.