The Jalcomulco Chronicles : Día de la Virgen de Guadalupe and the Torito de Fuego

The Día de la Virgen de Guadalupe (Day of the Virgin of Guadalupe) is a popular Catholic feast that celebrates the belief that San Juan Diego encountered the Virgin Mary, Mexico’s patron saint, in Mexico City on December 12, 1531. Every city and town has their own variation of the celebration, which spans a few days. We’re not Catholic, and we’re not Mexican, so we rarely participate in any of the local celebrations surrounding religion, as we just really don’t know what’s going on and it almost feels rude, if not a bit disrespectful. However, we were very excited to learn about one part of the celebration, which involves a hand crafted toro (bull) that is covered in fireworks and worn on a brave volunteer’s shoulders as they chase the townspeople and children who dare to get close.

While we were hanging out during the brick oven build, Oscar and Selso started telling us about the Torito de Fuego (little fire bull) and we went wide-eyed, not entirely convinced that we were accurately imagining what Oscar was describing to us. Surely there wouldn’t be a man wearing live fireworks, chasing people and kids through the square. Surely we’re losing something in translation. But Selso pulled out his phone and searched out his video from last year, pointing at it excitedly and saying “Mira, mira!” (Look, look!) We were stunned. It was exactly the kind of OSHA nightmare fuel that had been described to us. In fact, it was better.

Armed with this knowledge, we agreed that it was mandatory that we attend and I should most definitely take photos, so we anxiously awaited the night of the celebration and went an hour early to the square, determined not to miss the show.

Sure enough, once 9pm hit, some music played, maybe a bell was rung (it’s hard to remember, as the adrenaline wiped out a lot of the small details from our memory) and the first of what would be several toritos was lit. Whoever makes the torito certainly has a special skillset, as the fireworks are all linked together with one fuse, but they’re on a time delay, so there’s a purposefully nerve-wracking waiting period between the lit fuse and the first of several rounds of fireworks going off. Once it’s lit, the countdown begins and the crowd cautiously gathers around the bull, provoking the volunteer inside, waiting for the first sparks to fly.

With a ‘POP’ and a ‘BANG’, the nervous anticipation quickly turned into a sort of panicked energetic glee. The crowd scattered, the bull became the instigator and the fireworks shot in every direction. We learned all too quickly that no one is safe, as the bull’s inhabitant scaled the stairs to the raised sidewalk where we stood watching, convinced we’d be well on the outskirts of the molten spray. Cornered, we ran, elbowing our way through the frenzied crowd, not daring to look behind us, lest we get caught in the torrent of sparks raining down around us.

A few moments later, the square got dark again and the fleeing masses caught their breath. The bravest of the group approached the bull, yelling and whistling, taunting the man inside, daring him try again. It may have felt like minutes, with the crowd creeping timidly inward towards the bull, but I’m sure it was shorter than that, and the next round of fireworks went off with gusto, wreaking havoc on the masses once again.

We had never, and I mean NEVER, seen anything like this. As we attempted to shelter between parked cars, we had a difficult time keeping it together. It was impossible to not find ourselves in an uncontrollable belly laugh as we alternated between running from the bull, who always seemed to find our “safe” spot and taking photos of and watching the courageous souls that continued to duck and leap around the active fireworks, goading the man in the bull, relentless with their energy.

The cat and mouse dance continued, with several rounds of fireworks from the first bull. When it was finally over, we locked our wide eyes, astounded by the spectacle, grinning ear to ear and talking over each other as we spoke “Did you see that one whiz right over my head?!” “I almost got hit!!” “HOW IS THIS EVEN A THING?!?!”

I honestly can’t remember if there were three or four bulls, but the event went on for a while, long enough that we eventually tired of running. So when one of the bull’s fuses malfunctioned, rendering it impotent as several people gathered around with lighters, all too willing to help aid the firework monster take life again, we used the lull as an excuse to escape for tacos, satisfied with our experience and the photos I’d gotten.

It’s safe to say that our night with the Torito de Fuego will go down as one of the most exciting and amusing events we’ve ever seen.

The flaming bull running through Jalcomulco’s Square.

Some of the fireworks were attached to four spinning wheels on the bull’s frame, adding a layer of unpredictability to the show.

Looking upward at the raised sidewalk that we’d strategically chosen to stand on, thinking we’d have a great view and be safe from the bull. We were wrong!

Fireworks flew all over the place, sprialing into the night air above our heads, and skittering across the ground, forcing everyone into a frenzied sort of dance.

When the bull was shooting fireworks, it chased the bystanders, but the roles reversed between rounds.

Oscar jumped in during a break in the fireworks, waving his coat for the bull, inviting him to charge.

The volunteer carrying the blull was often engulfed in a shroud of sparks.

The event became dance-like, with brave participants getting as close as they dared to the bull, and then scampering away.

The bull charging in the streets of Jalcomulco.

Lighting the second bull of the evening, for more fireworks and fun.

An inflatable Santa Claus watching over a flaming bull lit to celebrate the Vigin mary - Christmas tradition at its finest.

Bottle rockets streaming into the air on the Night of the Flaming Bull.

The event was an all ages party, with families surrounding the action.

The flaming bull running through the streets of Jalcomulco.

Fire and sparks showering the square.

The flaming bull and it’s spectators dancing and chasing each other in the streets of Jalcomulco.

A few of the braver participants would try to antagonize the bull, playing the role of the matador.

The Jalcomulco Chronicles : Building a brick wood-fired oven

DISCLAIMER : This post is more of a DIY how-to for when we get around to building our own pizza oven someday. Chelsea wrote it, and it’s great, and the photos are awesome, but it’s not our usual travel/culture-centric kind of content. Enjoy, or don’t, but we’ll be back with a more regular type post on Monday!

Shortly after we arrived in Jalcomulco, Oscar mentioned that he would be building a brick wood-fired pizza oven soon. His brother-in-law, Selso, is a talented mason that’s well-versed in building brick ovens, so he would be taking the reigns on the project, with Oscar helping. Christian and I quickly begged our way into being included, as constructing our own oven has long been a personal dream of ours.

The oven was planned for a spot beside Oscar’s garage, just outside of the front entry. The location housed an impressive array of medicinal and herbal plants, but all of that was dug up and transplanted elsewhere to make way for the oven.

In Jalcomulco, the most common way to mix concrete is on the ground near where you’ll be using it. There are dried spots up and down the streets of town, where people have mixed their materials out in front of their houses while doing building projects inside. Unlike what we’re used to in the US, their concrete doesn’t come premixed. They get bags of cement, and then add sand and rocks and calcium before mixing it by hand while adding water. You can always tell who is about to start a home project when you see a pile of sand and rocks outside their house on the sidewalk. I’m not sure of the exact ratio, but watching them work told me that they’ve done this a few hundred times and their movements were not unlike a seasoned baker making biscuits from scratch without a measuring cup in sight.

Before their first batch of concrete was mixed, scrap wood was gathered and placed into a form along the wall where they would first pour the base for the whole structure. After the base was poured and had set for a day, Selso removed the boards, mixed a small portion of plain cement without sand or rocks, and spread a finish layer over the base, smoothing the material with a homemade wooden trowel and eventually finishing it off with a wavy texture created by dipping one of Maria’s brooms in water and then lightly dragging it across the top while moving it back and forth. This step was my favorite, as I’d seen plenty of finished concrete steps and walkways with this wavy texture, but I’d never known how the texture was made. Seeing how it was achieved with such a simple technique using a broom reminded me once again that you don’t need expensive and specialized tools for every Pinterest-fueled DIY project and creative thinking goes a long way.

The future home of a custom brick oven!

Forms are up and concrete is being added to make the base of the oven.

Christian joined in, helping to sling concrete.

The oven would be 1 meter x 1 meter, so the front needed an additional base bump-out built.

Selso carefully adding a finish coat of cement to the base once it had mostly dried.

Selso sprinkled dry cement on the finish coat in preparation to add texture.

A well-worn broom was dipped in water and dragged lightly back and forth over the surface to create a wavy pattern.

A larger view of the progress as he added The texture.

It’s both beautiful and functional, as it doubles as a non-slip texture!

After the base was fully cured, the oven structure was next to take shape. Using cinderblocks, they laid out the walls of the lower part of the oven, which would be roughly 1 meter by 1 meter. The opening/door of the oven would be a little proud, so the walls didn’t form a perfect square and it was slightly deeper than it was wide.

After the walls were finished and dried, they filled it with dirt. It was filled “a few bricks” shy of full and they then made a custom circular rim out of bricks, which would be directly underneath the interior of the finished oven. The layer of dirt was topped with a mixture of broken glass, lava rock, sand and rock salt. This created an air-filled layer that helps insulate the hot oven from the base and keeps it from losing heat to the materials below when it’s in use. Oscar had to enlist the help of friends and family to get enough glass to cover the area, and Christian volunteered to source the rock salt during a trip to the nearby city of Coatepec when he was running errands to Autozone gathering supplies for an oil change on the van.

Oscar and Selso constructing the oven.

Level is level - Selso is a master of construction.

Oscar filling the void of the oven’s base with dirt.

Glass!

They used an old political banner to set on top of the glass while they broke it apart with hammers.

Oscar admiring his work.

Adding lava rock.

Oscar preparing cement while Selso mixes the glass, sand and lava rock.

Rock salt, lava rock, sand and glass.

Oscar adding the rock salt,.

The days spent working on the oven weren’t without their shenanigans. Oscar busted out some herbal smoke to keep the mosquitoes at bay and he and Christian had an impromptu jam session with some instruments he found nearby.

A single of layer of bricks was placed over the oven base once it was filled.

After the base was filled with material, Selso laid a single layer of bricks over the entire top. This would be the actual “floor” of the oven interior, and what would hold the fire and whatever is being cooked. A large circle was then drawn on the bricks to mark the inside circumference of the oven. It was offset from the front to accommodate the door and archway into the oven. Oscar had a local welder fabricate the door and it had two metal “legs” that would sink into the oven base and two side “tabs” that would be bricked into the arch to hold it into place. Selso eyeballed the door, found a spot he was happy with, and drilled a couple holes to sink it into place. A few supports were positioned on the front and back of it while he added a brick archway around the door. A chimney was placed over the very center top of the archway to provide a place for smoke to escape.

Selso continued to work into the dark of the evening, moving onto the first layer of the oven proper, while Oscar and Christian slowly descended into a state of revelry, fueled by libations provided by Maria and an impeccable classic and grunge rock playlist that Oscar kept turning up. Eventually, peer pressure won out, and Selso abandoned the project, joining into a mosh pit of three as Nirvana’s ‘Smells Like Teen Spirit’ drowned out all other signs of life.

Oscar cutting some bricks to size with an angle grinder.

Selso laying the final layer of brick over the oven base.

Drawing a circle to begin construction of the walls.

The custom fabricated door!

Selso figuring out where he wanted to install the door. (Notice the insulating bricks inside the custom door. It was quite heavy!)

A drill was used to hollow out where the door would be set into place.

Perfect fit!

Once the door was in a good spot, Selso built an arch of bricks around it to hold it in place.

Christian hauling bricks while Gracie practices sit/stay in weird spots.

But Dad, tell me again why we’re not playing disc right now?

Selso constructing the arch around the door. He split two bricks in half to set the two tabs into place between them.

A close-up of the door tab.

Another view of the arch being built over the door.

Gotta have some posed pictures in there for commemorating the occasion.

Selso hard at work while Christian and Oscar succumb to the irresistible urge to become Jalcomulco’s best Air Band.

Working his way up the sides of the door.

A chimney was set right over the door. Selso carved out part of the bricks on either side to accommodate the chimney and ensure a snug fit.

Adding the last of the arch around the chimney. Bricks, a basket and little blocks were used to support the archway as it was built.

Selso begins on the lower circle of the oven proper. Bricks were cut in two to create a more smooth shape.

The next day, supports for the arch were removed and the door was tested. With it opening smoothly, Selso turned his attention back to the oven proper and began laying the rows that would eventually push inward, forming the dome. The bricks were cut in half, making it easier to create a smooth curve around the circle. Since the shapes didn’t need to be precise, they were broken in half with a swift hit of the trowel or hammer, saving the time it would have taken to cut each one with a grinding wheel.

After the fourth row, Selso started laying the bricks slightly inside the circle, creating a surprisingly smooth freehand slope towards the center as he went. By my count/estimation, there were about 13 or 14 rows total. You’ll see in the final photos why it’s hard to say for sure, as the final “keystone” pieces were bits and pieces of broken bricks pushed and fit into the remaining opening until things seemed happy.

By the ninth row, the bricks were angled in enough to warrant some support. A basket, bricks, cardboard and a pile of neatly formed wet sand created an inner dome for Selso to build the last few rows on, completing the satisfying shape of the oven.

The next day! The arch set well, the door opens and the rest of the oven was ready to be finished!

Working on the first row of bricks of the oven.

Selso laying brick after brick.

Selso beginning the artful work of constructing the oven’s dome.

The dome growing inwards on itself.

More mud, more bricks, less space.

Selso adding materials to the interior of the dome to create support for the final layers.

Creating a support for the roof of the oven.

THE TOP OF THE TEMPORARY INTERIOR SUPPORT OF THE OVEN.

ADDING SAND TO THE TOP OF THE TEMPORARY SUPPORT TO ACT AS A SMOOTH FLOOR FOR THE LAST LAYERS OF BRICK - PREPERATION EQUALS SUCCESS.

ADDING THE FINAL LAYERS OF BRICK.

SELSO HAD TO CUT EACH BRICK DOWN AS THE CIRCLE GOT SMALLER.

Tighter and tighter circles of smaller and smaller bricks.

Selso adding the final bricks to the dome of the pizza oven.

Done!

After a day or two of drying, a layer of chicken wire was wrapped around the dome and plain cement (no rocks or sand) was mixed to spread over the oven and give it a finished look. It was applied with a trowel and a large wet sponge was used to smooth it out.

The final step is to cure the oven for use, which is done by burning small fires inside of it over several days. The first fire is very small, with little heat and each subsequent fire is slightly larger, hotter and should burn for longer.

The finished product turned out really well, and it was encouraging to see that the oven could be built in a less than precise way and still look almost perfect when finished. The inaugural cooking event was on New Year’s Eve, and Oscar prepared some delicious ribs in a traditional red chili sauce. Christian couldn’t resist the urge to participate, and prepared some beans and bread to cook as well.

Chicken wire and skim coat of stucco to finish this iteration of the pizza ove,n.

The first of three or four small starter fires to cure the oven.

Two oven building professionals.

The first big fire for the first meal in the new oven.

Beans cooking in a pot carved from volcanic rock.

The new pizza oven fits in well at Oscar’s beautiful home.

The Jalcomulco Chronicles : From Beans to Brew, Learning about Harvesting and Roasting Coffee

There’s something to be said about slowing your roll while traveling. So often, we find ourselves in towns and cities for only a day or two, and despite how many local taco spots you visit, you never truly get to know the rhythm and flow of a place before you hop back into the rolling home and move onto the next place. Because of Walter’s transmission problems, we had a great excuse to extend our previously planned month-long stay in Jalcomulco into a longer and more immersive visit. The next several blog posts will take a different form, focusing more on the things we learn and experience while in Jalcomulco versus a chronological retelling of our weeks. The first of these is all about coffee (and written by Chelsea, as Christian wasn’t really involved.)

We’re lucky enough to have rented a house right across the street from our good friend Oscar. This means we’re a mere whistle and wave away from being invited over for tasks that might seem mundane to him, but are interesting and educational for us. Oscar, while being a world class kayaker and raft guide, also owns a few plots of land just outside of his nearby hometown of Xotla. One of them is strictly for growing limes, which he sells on the local market, but the other, a riverside paradise with a small shelter, grill and treehouse, hosts a variety of fruits and vegetables that Oscar grows for his own personal use.

Among his many varieties of peppers, avocados, oranges, sugar cane, coconuts, bananas, papaya (and more) is a small patch of shade-grown coffee plants. Oscar isn’t a coffee drinker, but his wife Maria is, so it makes sense to grow their own, despite living only 40 kilometers from “La capital del café”, Coatepec.

It’s not unusual to walk the streets of Jalcomulco and see sidewalks in front of the houses covered in coffee beans, peanuts or pumpkin seeds, left out in the sun to dry. The agricultural background of the town, paired with the ease at which things grow here, makes it a perfect place for the locals to grow and harvest their own small batches of food for personal consumption. I’d always been curious about the process of coffee specifically, so I asked Oscar if he’d include me after seeing a tarp of drying beans in his driveway one day.

As luck would have it, on a day Christian wanted to go play on the river without me, Oscar told me he was heading to his farm to pick coffee, as the beans were ripe and needed to be harvested. (If coffee beans get left on the plant, it eventually dies, so you must pick the beans if you want the plant to live and keep producing). I excitedly hopped on the back of his motorcycle with a backpack and water bottle and we took off for a day at his farm.

After our mandatory consumption of a few coconuts worth of coconut water with lime, we got to work, picking through the dark green shrubbery to fill our buckets with the sticky red jewels. We tired of the task after a few hours, and despite seeing more plants ready to be harvested, we opted for a couple more hydrating coconuts instead and loaded up my backpack with the beans for the ride home.

Oscar taking a short cut to Pasa Limon over a cable bridge. If you look closely, you’ll see that there are wooden “Topes” or speed bumps on the bridge because it’s a regularly used route for local motorcyclists.

A view of Pico de Orizaba from the roads descending down into his farm.

The small plot of lime trees in the lower center is one of Oscar’s farms. You can see a large marble quarry on the ridgeline across the valley.

Oscar’s lower riverside farm. It’s a lime farm, but also home to many other fruits and plants that he grows for his own use, like coffee!

No day at Oscar’s farm is complete without coconuts.

He’s a whiz at cutting the coconuts open with his machete.

Can’t have coconuts without lime.

One of the many beautiful coffee plants ready to be harvested.

A close-up of the beans.

It can be tedious work, but by grabbing each branch with two hands, clearing the beans takes very little time.

The “husk” around fresh beans is soft and sticky. They’re pretty delicious to chew on and the husk has a sweet and ever so slight coffee flavor to it.

Oscar in his happy place…working on his farm.

Oscar made me give up the camera so he could get a few shots of me as proof that I also worked.

The next steps of the process are how Oscar and his wife Maria process the coffee, and not necessarily a universal technique, so keep that in mind.

Once the beans are home, they’re run through a hand grinder set to a very large setting. There is just enough pressure between the grinding wheels to break the juicy husks of the beans away for the next step of the process, which is drying. The mishmash of husks and beans are spread out into a single layer on a large mesh tarp to dry in the sun. It usually takes several days, as they want all of the moisture to be gone before the next steps.

Fresh picked beans after they were run through their grinder on a very loose setting so the beans stay intact, but the husks are loosened and broken away.

The beans/husks are laid out in the sun to dry for several days.

After drying for several days in the sun, the husks and beans are ready to be separated.

Once dry, the process of separating the beans from the husks begins. A large welded wire screen sifter is used first, with them rubbing the mixture over the grate, letting the smaller bits of broken up husks fall through. The remaining mix is put in a bucket, where Maria uses a fan to blow the lighter weight husks away while pouring the beans from one bucket to another. After several rounds of the fan technique, the beans are put on another flat surface and sorted by hand to pick out the rotten/bad beans.

Once the beans looks mostly clean and separated, a fire is started to roast them over a large ceramic plate. After the fire gets hot enough, Maria places a small batch of beans on the plate and stirs and flips them with a metal spoon as they roast. Once done, the roasted beans were scooped into a pot to cool before finally being put through the grinder.

Maria was gracious enough to share her final product with us, which certainly made our mornings a little more special as we enjoyed our locally harvested, organic, hand-roasted coffee.

Maria and Oscar use a homemade sifter to rub the beans/husks over to start the process of separating the beans and husks.

The small pieces of husks get broken up and go through the metal mesh, while the beans stay on top.

Maria uses a fan to blow the husks away from the beans.

The bucket is switched over and over as she lets the fan do the work.

Oscar continues to break up the husks while Maria uses a fan to blow the husks away from the beans.

One last sorting by hand to remove rotten beans from the mix.

A bucket of coffee beans, ready for roasting!

Oscar took this photo of Maria and I sorting the beans. Proof that I don’t just take photos…I also participate and help!

The dried coffee beans ready to roast.

One of their three beautiful cats kept watch over us while we worked.

Oscar starting a fire over the grill to roast the beans. Household grills are commonly made from all wood and then covered with a layer of fine sand. The fire is built on the sand to prevent it from burning through the bottom.

Maria roasts the beans by hand over a large ceramic platter (this platter is also her tortilla-making platter)

The smell was delightful.

Once the beans had a mostly even roast on them, she scooped them into a pot to cool.

Freshly roasted coffee beans!

One last sort through of the beans…anything that crumbled between her fingers got thrown out, as it was probably an old/rotten bean.

One last husk-removal session in front of the fan for all the pesky bits that made it through to the roasting stage.

The last step of the process…grinding the beans!

Walter's Woes : "Stuck" in Jalcomulco with Transmission Troubles

Nobody likes car trouble, especially vehicle-based-travelers, van dwellers, and overlanders. With our homes and our freedom of movement tied up into one neat package, an automotive hiccup can mean big changes in plans when on the road. Chelsea and I have had a few issues in the past with vehicles - our first Baja trip included a week laid up in Loreto, BCS waiting for a Pinzgauer clutch master cylinder, and our original ambulance (Campbulance!) conversion had an A/C compressor seize and eat a serpentine belt. Stubbs the Bus made it a whopping 5.9 miles on his inaugural journey before stranding us with a failed alternator.

Walter, our 1996 Mitsubishi Delica L400 Space Gear, had been showing some signs of a possible transmission issue since driving a 4x4 trail in California. I don’t think it was the trail or the driving that caused the problem, but the first symptoms did appear right after we hit pavement in the trail’s parking lot and staging area. The problem was very intermittent at that point and stayed that way until about halfway down the Baja peninsula, when it started rearing its ugly head again. The van felt like it had almost no power on takeoff. The engine would rev, but almost no power was getting to the wheels until I hit roughly 10KPH, then things were a little more normal. I assumed the van wasn’t engaging 1st gear, as I had 1st gear when I shifted the automatic transmission into ‘L’ and that gave me power at takeoff. I could even drive the van like a quasi-manual, shifting into ‘L’ at stoplights and then gaining speed in 1st, then shifting into ‘2’ and then ‘D’. Otherwise, I tried to limit stopping, much like we did when we lost the clutch master cylinder on the Pinzgauer years ago.

I got most of the problem sorted by calling the mechanic at the dealership who sold us the van, but as we closed in on Jalcomulco the van got worse and the problem became less intermittent and more permanent. Jalcomulco was our goal, and while I would not say we limped the van there, we were certainly saying more prayers than usual as we got closer to our favorite little jungle river town.

The goal had been Jalcomulco not just because of the rafting and the paddling, but also because we have friends and acquaintances in the area and we had already planned to rent a house and stay in the town for at least a month, giving me time to do some maintenance and work. I needed to change the oil and rotate the tires, I had some plans to add a few creature comforts to the van like some bungee storage for flip flops and quick access clothing, and now I had a mysterious transmission hiccup to work out. We had been in town for a few weeks, paddling and exploring and generally carrying on with new and old friends, before I finally forced myself to even look at the van. I had called some contacts in the states and made a few forum posts about the issue, and the path forward seemed to be to check the throttle position sensor (TPS), adjust it if necessary, and then reassess.

I ran some quick tests with the multimeter I had thankfully brought with us, and then decided to adjust the TPS - it was reading .96V at idle and everything I read suggested .78V at idle, so I dialed the voltage down. Upon starting the van, everything seemed ok, so Chelsea, Gracie, Oscar and I loaded up for a test drive, as Oscar needed to run some errands in the nearest city of Coatepec and I needed to purchase oil for the oil change. It was a short 40 minute drive away that included some decent windy hill climbs, but stayed off high speed freeways. We got up and out of town, and onto the plateau above the Rio Antigua with little problem, but suddenly the initial issue was back, the van lacked power in 1st and essentially had no power on takeoff. I decided to press on, hoping to gain some more experience with the issue, cycling between ‘L’ and ‘D’ hoping that would kick 1st gear back into existence, but to no avail. Eventually the ‘A/T’ light on the dash started flashing, indicating that the automatic transmission was overheating - this was a troubling new symptom and I had not seen any warning lights while dealing with this problem from California to the Gulf Coast. We immediately pulled over and let the van cool off, apologizing to Oscar that we couldn’t take him to the city today. He shrugged, said “It’s okay, no worries!” and caught a ride on a bus in less than five minutes, leaving us to limp Walter home as he rode towards the city on the much simpler, much more reliable public transit.

Oscar’s brother-in-law Tino is a mechanic in town and was willing to look at the van with me. He eyeballed the engine bay and then whipped out his OBD-2 scan tool to read any stored codes. The A/T light had stopped blinking by the time I got the van to the shop, but the codes were still stored in Walter’s brain. I though for sure that Tino’s scan tool was not going to be able to identify the vehicle, as most lists of vehicles here in North America don’t list the Delica as an option, and my heart sank as he scrolled through page after page after page of Mitsubishi models, but lo-and-behold, the Delica was on the list, and the scan tool was fully equipped to translate for us.

The scan showed that one of the three or four transmission solenoids had failed to engage properly, but it wasn’t the one associated with the 1st gear, and the problem felt like a one-off, maybe the product of an overheating transmission from too many starts in 2nd, but not the problem creating the lack of power. I thanked Tino, and we made a plan to possibly pull the transmission pan and physically inspect the solenoids, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that the solenoid issue wasn't the problem I was looking to solve, as it was a brand new symptom and the original issue had been plaguing us for months.

Consulting with Oscar and tino upon our arrival in Jalcomulco.

Tino working his magic with his OBD-2 scan tool.

Only one saved code showed up, a solenoid fault in the automatic transmission.

I hoped that if I stared hard enough I would get some answers from the scan tool.

Contemplating possible fixes to a mostly unknown issue.

At Tino’s shop in Jalcomulco.

“I am the driver now,” Gracie the dog.

Making a plan of attack with Tino.

We parked the van again and settled back into our Jalcomulco routine: sleeping in until the sun woke us up, coffee, crosswords and podcasts in the morning, throwing the disc for the dog all day, pack-rafting and kayaking in the afternoon, exercising and stretching in the afternoon, and tacos for dinner. It was a great routine, and it still is as I sit here writing, staring at the river and sending WhatsApp messages to set up a shuttle for a kayak lap on the Pescados. It was easy for us to slowly slip out of travel mode and into living mode. The van got emptied, our camp kitchen became a house kitchen, our clothing exploded into the bedroom, all our gear got piled in a corner, and Gracie wore paths of destruction into the yard as she chased her disc around the pool and the palm trees. A few years ago the stagnation had driven me crazy, because living in one place, even in an exotic place, just isn’t traveling. But now, the stagnation is appreciated and even celebrated, maybe because I am older or because we have already done some of the travels south of Jalcomulco and that is less of an alluring unknown, or maybe it’s because Chelsea and I have stumbled into a daily routine that is vastly improving our physical and mental health. Whatever it is, we like it.

A few weeks after the transmission overheated and the diagnosis of a solenoid fault, I played around with the throttle kick-down cable some more, inspecting both ends and its entire length for signs of a blowout or an abrasion. I adjusted all the slack out of the cable, and everything looked and acted fine again, other than the fact that I have no more room to adjust if the symptoms arise again. We took Walter on two test drives, one just up to the top of the plateau where the transmission had previously overheated, and another on a two hour trip up into Coatepec to run errands. Everything felt fine, there was a minor low speed hiccup here and there, and he was down on power due to my adjusting of the TPS, but otherwise he was fine - no overheating, no codes, and full power on takeoff.

We were ready for travel again, with the open road extending out in front of us, and adventure on our doorstep. We could leave today on a grand expedition to Oaxaca and the Yucatán and Chiapas! Maybe we will leave tomorrow. Or maybe next week. Certainly next month. March at the latest. Until then, we will be here on the porch, drinking local shade-grown coffee and eating pan dulce, waving buen día to our friends as they walk past our gate, throwing the disc for the dog, relearning how to kayak, working out in the afternoons, and enjoying tacos in the evenings. Adventure is what you make of it.

Salud, amigos.

Playing mechanic.

“This is a really hard LEGO set…”

Setting and resetting and checking and rechecking the TPS.

On the phone with Mechanics in the US and Canada to confirm my suspicions.

More thinking, less doing.

Visually and manually inspecting the kick-down cable.

Ready for a test drive.

Nov 14 - Nov 25 : Ferry Friends, Mexican Revolution Day and Thanksgiving

Shortly after getting settled in Jalcomulco, Veracruz, we were visited by some fellow travelers we met on the La Paz - Mazatlán ferry. We had spent a few hours talking up Jalcomulco to James and Kelly (and their dog Orion and van Wendy) while we were waiting to board the ship in Baja, and learned that they are also boaters and were packing an inflatable tandem kayak on the roof of their van. James had been a guide on the Cache la Poudre River in Colorado, and Kelly is a whitewater enthusiast, so we figured they would be right at home in Jalcomulco, and an open ended offer was tendered there on the ferry: come find us, and we will go boating.

We had parted ways upon departing the ferry, and they had gone south towards the surf town Sayulita as we climbed towards Durango, putting their schedule a few days behind ours. This ended up being perfect, as we felt ready to extend our limited knowledge of the town by the time they arrived - we had re-established our connections with some locals, I had been down the river a few times, and we could try to play-act as guides for visitors. I was toying around with the idea of “guiding” them down the river in their ducky for their first lap of the Pescados section, the class III-IV canyon just above town, but I wasn’t sure enough of the lines yet to take the responsibility for another set of paddlers. We decided on renting a raft and hiring a local guide to give James, Kelly, and Chelsea a look at the canyon before we turned up the dial on adventure.

Our guide for the day was Jose, a professional boater and a significant figure in the Jalcomulco whitewater scene. He has been paddling in the area for decades, but more importantly, he was one of a handful of prominent faces in an otherwise headless and grassroots movement to stop the building of a dam just upstream from Jalcomulco. We had heard that in the past there were plans to dam the Rio Antigua for all the normal reasons like flood control, irrigation, hydropower, but we had assumed that plan was a product of the 1970’s or maybe 80’s. We were surprised to learn the fight had only recently ended (if those kinds of fights ever really end). More information can be found here: https://roarmag.org/films/the-river-says-no/.

My limited ability to write creatively escapes me when I am confronted with communicating honest emotions about powerful moments: Having Jose as our guide was really cool.

Having the trip outfitted by our friends at Kachikín rafting was great. The weather was nearly perfect, the river level low-ish but playful. James, Kelly and Chelsea got surfed in holes and waves, Jose pointed out pictographs and caves and wildlife, and I clapped and cheered and tried not to swim. It was a great start of what became a week of adventure for us and our ferry friends, and the lap down Pescados left everyone wanting more, which was exactly how I’d planned it.

Kelly, James, Jose, and Christian getting ready to launch at Puente Pescados, the bridge that marks the start of the Pescados section of the Rio Antigua.

The last moments of dry warmth before leaving the ready eddy.

The view downstream on an especially clear day in the Pescados canyon.

Our guide Jose offering stories of the canyon; white pictographs can be seen on the stone wall above him in the center of the photo.

Boating on the Pescados.

Jose showing where the high water mark is on a wall of the canyon, just beneath the rapid “Cueva”

Paddling beneath “Cueva” rapid, one of the prettiest parts of the canyon.

Enjoying a micro surf mid canyon.

We had globbed onto an existing commercial trip, so it was a bit of a party with two rafts and three kayaks.

Safety Kayaker Roberto took good care of us, and even gave me some pointers on paddling my packraft.

James getting inverted at the jump rock.

Kelly going big at the jump rock.

Timid Tuttle barely surviving the jump rock.

Jose is a local who knows everyone - he saw some friends checking shrimp and langostino (crawdad) traps on the side of the river and used it as an excuse to teach a lesson on the natural history of the Rio Antigua.

Wildly successful boaters!

Gratuitous selfie!

A complete success of a trip, back in downtown Jalcomulco.

November 20th brought Revolution Day for Mexico, with Jalcomulco hosting a proper parade like so many other towns and cities in the country. We met up with Oscar that morning, freshly home from leading a six day kayaking tour around eastern Mexico. The town had turned out to the square, for a few rousing speeches from the local politicians, a presentation of the Mexican flag by the color guard, and then a town-encircling parade made up of students and clubs from the local schools. Many of the locals dressed up in revolutionary garb, and even the little kids in grade school were outfitted in bandoliers and carried cardboard rifles to celebrate the armed uprising of the Mexican people. One of Oscar’s children was marching with her high school, giving Chelsea a great excuse to bust out the camera and do her photo-journalist thing.

This is about 1/4 of the crowd gathered in the town square, It seemed like every school child marched in the parade, from the high school marching band to the primary school students.

Our close friend Oscar Colorado dressed up for Revolution Day.

The Revolution Day costumes were excellent!

Jalcomulco is a town BURSTING with spirit.

After getting a taste of the local whitewater, James and Kelly were keen to unpack their tandem inflatable kayak, or “ducky”, and get to paddling on their own. I know this feeling, or rather these feelings; there is a great desire to use the gear you have hauled all over creation, and there is an equally great desire to throw off the assistance of a guide and become the master of one’s own whitewater destiny - to exit the raft and get into a kayak, or in this case a ducky, actually a double ducky, or as some refer to it, a divorce boat, due to its tendencies to spark fights between paddlers if things don’t go well.

The section beneath Jalcomulco is a fun, friendly class II-III adventure, with a couple named rapids and a take-out only an hour downstream at the town of Apazapan. We talked Oscar into coming with us and launched from our backyard, with James and Kelly having paddled down from their riverfront camp just a few hundred meters upstream. This was the first I had seen of them in their ducky, and they handled the section just fine, as had Chelsea in her packraft. With that fun bit of success behind us, Oscar proposed the next step on our whitewater skills ladder: a trip to the Actopan River.

Chelsea and I (and Gracie!) had paddled the Actopan two years prior, and its one of those experiences we gush about. The river pops right out of a cliff wall, completely spring fed and crystal clear, then drops over a few sporty class III drops, and then winds its way through sugar cane fields and bamboo groves, with more class II splashy fun all the way down. We had promised a great time to James and Kelly, and neither the river nor Oscar failed to deliver. The rapids were a blast, the ducky handled everything beautifully, and we all enjoyed a long surf session at the end that convinced me James and Kelly could paddle the Pescados if they wanted.

Our only photo from our Apazapan warm-up lap, loaded up in the shuttle, riding the 10 minutes back to Jalcomulco.

Getting ready for a lap down the Actopan river. The parking is above the springs at a butterfly santuary, and there is a short walk down into the canyon.

Some of the butterflies at the sanctuary feasting on ripened fruit.

Navigating the slick steel walkways to the put-in is a challenge. The springs cover everything in a clean mist and there is slippery vegetation everywhere.

The entrance and descent into the river corridor and springs is always an impressively beautiful sight.

Pre-paddle bath in the springs pools.

Paddling through the busy waters of the Actopan.

The first few kilometers of the ActoPan are non-stop class II fun!

More waterfalls, I assume from the same geological seam as the springs at the put-in, dumping water into the river channel.

Paddling through a waterfall.

Travelers don’t say no to free showers.

The waterfalls are the first best place to regroup after the put-in.

This is the tempo and the speed of the first half of the Actopan - it is smile inducing fun!

Thanksgiving 2024 would probably have gone by unnoticed by the Traveling Tuttles if not for our ferry friends - it’s easy to let major holidays slip by unnoticed if your surrounding community and local culture don’t partake in the celebration. But with friends from the US visiting, we had to do something to commemorate the day. There was a hot spring attraction located a few towns downstream we had been meaning to visit since our last trip through Jalcomulco, and the presence of “guests” made for the perfect excuse to go explore its offerings. We carpooled in James and Kelly’s van Wendy, with Orion the dog reluctantly making room for us on the bed, and headed off for another aquatic adventure.

In the town of El Carrizal we found a sprawling, multiple pool resort, complete with restaurants, bars, masseuses, ropes courses, and water slides. We started with a long soak in the hot pool, a natural bath complete with a sandy floor, varying depths, and algae coated ropes crisscrossing the deep section, to allow the swimming challenged to bathe in security. The river runs right past the pool, with its cool waters lapping at the concrete bank of the hot spring. The water is healthful, or at least it is pungent with high concentrations of sulfur and salt that must do something for you. The soak was relaxing, the pool far from crowded. Once we were too warm, we explored the rest of the resort with timid reluctance - James and Kelly are a lot like us, in that they take their cues from the locals around them, and no one was swimming or playing in the cool pools or at the water slides. The cool pools were nice, probably empty due to the weather being a little overcast and it being a weekday, but the real fun was discovering that what we thought were ornamental bridges were actually hand made, tile covered water slides! We couldn’t believe it, and we explored the idea as a group, like a bunch of penguins peering over the edge of an iceberg, looking for danger in the waters below. The pool seemed quite shallow, and the slide was really steep, almost guaranteeing a swimmer would strike the bottom of the pool coming off a slide. James volunteered to go first, and after a successful slide into the shallow pool, we all followed suit, slapping the bottom of the pool every time, risk management be darned! It was a giggle fest, how could it not be?

With our confidence sky high from a positive exploration of the hand tiled slides, we walked back out to the vans, and past the soaring, handmade concrete water slides we had seen on the way in. The structure was at least 30 feet tall, vaguely dragon themed, with four slides spurring off the main tower. Its pools were vacant, as they had been on our way in, and we had written it off as a kiddy pool, sure that the dangerously steep slides weren’t actually for guests. But now we knew that our idea of dangerously steep only counted for something in the states, and that vacant pools didn’t mean anything was closed, just that other bathers weren’t interested in taking childish risks for childish rewards. Kelly, our best Spanish speaker, asked the attendants to turn on the pumps, and we were in business! At least for the lower slides, the upper two only got activated on the weekends, when demand was high enough to justify the electric bill. It was, again, a giggle fest.

Incredibly thankful for hot springs and questionable water slides, we headed back to Jalcomulco and tried to get a little more traditional. Kelly and James had been staying a few streets down at a small guesthouse, and they had the place to themselves, complete with an outdoor kitchen and deck perched over the river. We brought the ingredients for stuffing, they had some chicken and potatoes, and everyone had a nice time, dogs included! Cooking over a fire was an adventure like it always is, but the property had built their grill with a cable adjustment for different cooking heights, making it easy to Respect the Chicken. The whole meal was a nice Mexican nod to an American tradition, and little was missing from the table, or at least we thought so.

Lounging in the deep end of the hot springs at El Carrizal.

The spring is clear but has a lot of calcium and salt and sulfur - if it wasn’t for the high volume of flow through the pool I think the water would be full of algae.

The rio Antigua runs right past the springs, allowing for a cool soak if you want it, and you can see the volume of outflow from the hot pool on the right side of the photo.

Team swim! Enjoying the hand made, hand tiled water slide. Its some of the smoothest tile work we have ever seen!

The hand made concrete dragon waterslide

The artisanal nature of the waterslides was incredibly impressive. everything was hand poured and hand shaped around rebar and chicken wire.

The monstrosity!

Being ejected from the dragon’s mouth into a suspiciously shallow pool.

Chelsea was hesitant at first, but this was the kind of adventure that didn’t take no for an answer, especially on Thanksgiving

Lighting the fire on Thanksgiving

Trying our hardest to respect the chicken.

Enjoying the outdoor kitchen and dinig area at James’ and Kelly’S guesthouse.

Teamwork in the outdoor kitchen!

Thanksgiving 2023!

Thanksgiving 2023

“the humans wouldn’t let us go down the water slides and now they are making us take silly photos, no fair!” - Orion and Gracie.

The next day we worked up the gumption to take the ducky down the Pescados section, jumping onto a trip with the guys from Kachikín. Chelsea stayed behind to take photos of us at the last rapid, as she was still nursing her healing back injury and not totally comfortable paddling the Pescados section in her packraft. James and Kelly only had one swim in the canyon, in La Cueva, the rapid that is probably the hardest move at low water due to a handful of opposing seams and holes above a small drop - it was one of two places that had me a little concerned for them. The other spot of concern in my opinion is Huevo rapid, where the biggest risk is a nasty recirculating hole at the bottom. I told James and Kelly they could run left of the hole on the chicken line, or try the tighter raft line to the right of the hole. They ignored me and listened to the locals who were goading them on to run straight over the middle of the boulder that creates the hole, a meaty line that makes your boat splat on the water below the hole if you do it right, and an ugly swim if you don’t. They nailed the line, their double duck making a satisfying “BOOF” as it landed under the hole, cheered on by the hoots and hollers of the local guys in their kayaks. I don’t know why I had been so worried to take them down the Pescados - they are overlanders, adventure is what they do.

The lineup of boaters below the last rapid, Venti Dos. After running the rapid you can catch the eddy on the right, and paddle back upstream to a good surf wave.

James and Kelly surfed the wave in venti Dos like pros, with James acting as a rudder and Kelly swinging her paddle around like a turbo propeller, forcing the bow of the ducky into the meat of the wave. it was impressive.

We couldn’t leave out James and Kelly’s flip at the end of their surf session. A fun time was had by all!