Ajijic's back yard: Tepalo Waterfall hike

Mountain views of Ajijic and Lake Chapala can be stunning. On a clear day, Lake Chapala seems to stretch out forever when you are standing on a mountain outcrop overlooking Ajijic. The view from here is toward the southeast, and Lake Chapala continues for another 30 miles in that direction.

In this post, I decided to focus on the Tepalo Waterfall hike, one of the most popular and heavily traveled trails in the north shore area. It is accessed from Encarnacion Rosas street, which is also called Donato Guerra below the Carretera (main street of Ajijic). You just head uphill from Dona's Donuts, the gathering point for most group hikes in the area. When the street dead ends in a small development at the base of the mountains, look for the trailhead, found on the left before the small bridge crossing the arroyo which leads to the development gate.

My back yard is a vast mountain area easily accessed from home. My house is in the center of the picture above, framed by two palm trees. One mountain trail begins less than 100 yards from my door. The Tepalo trailhead is about 300 yards away. As an avid hiker, this close proximity to a huge wilderness area is ideal for me. Even so, I am also only a short walk away from Ajijic's Plaza, center of cultural activity in the area. I feel very fortunate.

The heavily jungled mountains can be confusing to the uninitiated. It was a while before I figured out the structure of these mountains. This simple example can help. Place your hand flat upon a table. Then, leaving the tips of your fingers on the table, arch the palm of your hand. Your top knuckles form a bumpy ridge, separated by shallow dips between them. These are the peaks of the mountain ridge that runs east to west along the shore, separated by what we call "saddles". Your fingers extend down to the table, similar to the many ridges that run from the peaks down to the flatter land by the lake. Between your fingers are troughs, similar to the arroyos that parallel and separate the ridges. Where the troughs run up to end in the "v" between your fingers are cliffs that are dry most of the year, but gush with waterfalls during the summer and early fall. In the picture above, the highest peak on the upper left is called Chupanaya. At 8000+ feet, this peak is the highest of the peaks that directly front the lake. My house sits near the base of one of the fingers, or ridges, that runs almost directly to Chupanaya.

Cool shady trail winds along the side of one of the finger ridges. There are hundreds of trails in the moutains, and almost none of them are marked. I always advise against hiking alone, particularly if you are new to the area, because it is easy to get lost even for those with experience. There are no dangerous animals, with the exception of the occasional rattlesnake in a remote canyon. It also is extremely rare to have a problem with another human. The danger lies in the remoteness of some areas. If you are injured, and no one knows your location, you could have a serious problem. Trails are often rugged, with steep drops on one or both sides. The Tepalo trail is heavily hiked, and the chance of meeting another hiker is likely, so it may be a good place to start if you are new.

Tepalo trail follows the stream up the arroyo. The trail crosses and re-crosses the stream many times. Most of the year it is dry. In the rainy season, the water can cascade down with a great deal of force, and ropes are sometimes rigged at the crossings. Rain has been light this summer, so the stream crossing seen above is very shallow.

The "v" between the fingers. This shot, taken from a trail winding along the side of one of the finger ridges, shows how the arroyos typically end with a sheer cliff. The jungle at the bottom of most arroyos is extremely dense at any time of year, and is almost impassable during the summer. Nevertheless, some of my hiking friends seem to delight in what we euphemistically call "bushwhacking". This involves forcing your way through this jungle, whacking away at the enroaching vines and sticker bushes with your hiking stick. They especially enjoy it when the bushwhacking involves struggling up steep, trailless hillsides. I have learned to prick up my ears when I hear one of them casually remark that "it may be a little thick up ahead..."

Purple Oxalis adorns the trail side. In the summer and fall, wildflowers explode into color all over the mountains. My wildflower-expert friend, Ron Parsons, helped me identify this flower, as well as the others in this posting. Different species of Oxalis are found almost everywhere but the arctic. Mexico, in particular, has a wide variety. Oxalis is also called the "love plant" for reasons I have not been able to ascertain. It is mentioned in China's Ming Dynasty records in 1421 as a plant whose extracts can be used to locate copper deposits. It is also eaten in some areas, but can be toxic in large quantities. Crystals of calcium oxalate have been used in treating diseases in the past. And, it is very pretty.

Deep green ferns flourish along shady trails. This area of Mexico is a transition zone between high desert and coastal jungle. It is not unusual to find a moisture-loving plant like this fern growing in the shade of a heat-loving cactus.

Tepalo's first large natural waterfall cascades down into the narrow canyon. There is another waterfall shortly after the trailhead, but it is formed by a small man-made dam. To find the 30 foot falls above, you have to take a short detour trail down into the canyon, because the main trail has started to rise up the hillside. Because the canyon is so narrow and deep here, it is almost always in shade, which means that shade and moisture loving plants abound.

And you think Mexicans have big families? This flower belongs to the Rubiaceae, which has 660 genera and more than 11,000 species, making it one of the largest of plant families. The family can be found throughout the world, from jungles to deserts. Members of this family produce coffee, quinine and other medicines, and dyes.

Snails abound in the mountains during the rainy season. Strolling along the trail to the Tepalo waterfall, I noticed an empty snail shell, and stopped to examine it. Having taken a moment to focus on the details of my immediate environment, I began to find snails everywhere. Mostly they seemed to be creeping along woody stems and branches as this one is. The shell is about 3 inches long. This experience caused me to pause more often and just look. It is amazing how much you can miss if you only focus on the next few rocky steps in front of you. Of course, you also don't want to fall off a cliff while gawking.

Young Mexican beauty contemplates one of Tepalo's many falls. We encountered this girl along the trail, along with several of her giggling friends. She may be about 14 years old. Like most pretty girls anywhere, she seemed to enjoy being photographed.

Tepalo's Upper Falls. I usually avoid posed photographs, but I asked fellow hiker Patricia to sit on the rock so there would be some sense of scale. The flow of water is moderate this year. I have seen these falls when they were covered by a silver sheet of water.

The waterhole at at the top of Tepalo falls serves many purposes. Animals drink from it, and plants along its edge draw upon its moisture. These two Mexican boys appeared while we were resting from our climb up the side of the falls. The older boy on the left is gathering water from the springs, while his younger brother keeps an eye on their horse in the background. They told me the water was for their milpa, or small corn field, located on the mountainside above. These mountains are all ejido land, controlled by the government and held in trust for the use of the common people. They are free to use the land to pasture their animals, grow corn or agave in small plots, gather firewood or to dig for camote roots (similar to sweet potatoes). Many of the trails in the mountains originated from these purposes, particularly from the camote diggers. Some trails probably long predate the Spanish.

Love in the pond. Upon closely inspecting the waterhole, I discovered a rather odd looking frog. It turned out to be two frogs mating. They completely ignored me, even when I got fairly close with my camera. Love conquers all.

Lantana produces a tiny, waxy-looking flower. Lantana is a genus of tropical flowers with about 150 species. Mainly it grows in the Americas and Africa. The flower clusters, like the one above, are called umbels and the individual flowers are called florets. Lantana's leaves are poisonous, but birds seem to like its seeds. The wood of the Lantana is very tough and durable and is used in wickerwork and other handicrafts.

Rod enjoys the view from a saddle above Tepalo's Upper Falls. Rod emailed me out of the blue while he was living in Tanzania in East Africa. He was planning to move to the Lake Chapala area and was intrigued by my hiking posts which he had discovered while surfing the web. I told him about our Tuesday hiking group, and one day there he was. Rod originally hails from Great Britain, but has lived all over the world. The saddle where he is standing is a broad, relatively flat area just behind the first knuckle up from the fingertip of the ridge leading up from my house. It forms a crossroads for trails leading off in a number of directions. The way to get to it from Tepalo is to hike to the end of the canyon above the Upper Falls, then switchback up the ridge to the saddle. The ridge he is viewing in the background is another finger leading up to the main east-west ridge.

Patricia, our edible wild foods expert. Patricia is a Mexican dentist who regularly hikes with us. Although diminutive, she is quite tough and keep ups with the men, even outpacing some of them. She has told me several times to always notify her when the special (usually very rugged) hikes come up. I found that she knows a lot about wild foods in the area and delights in finding tasty examples like the one she is holding, which she found on the saddle above the falls.

Christopher and wannabe friends. Christopher is a fellow hiker from the US who lives permanently in the Lake Chapala area. He is also a skilled artist who paints beautiful pictures. Christopher is a particularly interesting character, even in a community full of interesting characters. While he was enjoying his lunch on the saddle, a pair of horses showed up, apparently left to graze by their owner. They shied away from the rest of us, but seemed particularly attracted to Christopher.

Christopher and the pan-handling horse. The large brown horse kept sidling closer, even though Christopher studiously tried to ignore him as he munched on his fresh fruit.

Christopher and his new best friend. The horse edged closer until his nose was practically hanging over Christopher's shoulder. At this point, Christopher finally gave in and shared some of his fruit. I have seen dogs run this sort of a scam, but never a horse!

"I wonder if that's really all he has...?" Christopher shooed the horse away when the fruit was gone, but the huge animal seemed somewhat unconvinced. Carole and I love living in an area where we are close to animals like this. They are a never-ending source of amusement.

Giant Mesquite Bug is the common name for this colorful critter. Its scientific name is Thasus neocaliforicus. Although it looks a bit fearsome, it is harmless. Lacking a name at the time we encountered it, we noted the colorful markings and shape of its back and dubbed it the Zulu Shield bug.

Another beautiful blossom by the trail. My friend Joel Gomez, a trained horticulturist, tells me this is another species of Oxalis.

View from the saddle, toward the southwest. The small city of Jocotopec is concealed behind the ridge on the right side of the picture at the western-most tip of the lake. In view below my lookout point are the western outskirts of Ajijic.

Ajijic's Parrochia church through the trees near the end of the trail. The Parrochia was built in the 18th Century, and serves as a cultural hub in the Mexican community. What appears to be gray sky above the town is actually the surface of the lake, which is only about 3 blocks south of the Parrochia.

This completes my posting on the Tepalo trail, in Ajijic's (and my) back yard. Show up any Tuesday morning at 9 AM at Dona's Donuts, and you can come hike with us! I hope you have enjoyed this post. Please feel free to share the link with friends. If you'd like to make a comment, you can do so in the comments section below or by emailing me directly. If you leave a question in the comments section, be sure to leave your email address so I can answer it.

Hasta luego! Jim

Barranca Yerba Buena Part 4 - Top of the upper falls

Upper falls of Barranca Yerba Buena. After my recent focus on Ajijic, I thought I would catch up on a few of the wonderful hikes we have been taking this summer. You can see our first three hikes to this canyon in the index under Hiking. Look for Barranca Yerba Buena Parts 1,2,&3. After those hikes, word spread about this wonderful waterfall-filled canyon south of Lake Chapala. We filled three 4x4 vehicles with a motley crew of hikers to make the climb from the eastern side of the plateau, a route we had not yet attempted. Our goal was to find a farm road that would take us up onto the plateau to the trail head leading up to the Inner Falls. We wanted to attempt a descent into the basin of the falls, if we could find a route.

So far, so good. After parking the cars we started up a promising farm road. Our only map was a Google Earth satellite photo, a method requiring some serious the photo interpretation skills since what might appear to be a road could simply be the shadow of a stone wall. I hoped we wouldn't spend the morning stumbling through various wrong turns and briar patches before finding the route up into the Barranca.

Raul, local farmer and guide extraordinaire. We passed through a farm gate and almost immediately encountered the farmer. Patricia, a fellow hiker who is a Mexican dentist from Guadalajara, immediately stepped forward and began translating our questions, adding a few of her own. I wondered if Raul, the farmer, might be put off by our effrontery in wandering through his land. Once again, I completely misjudged the attitude of Mexican country people in this area. Raul turned out to be a very friendly guy. He not only advised us of the best route to the canyon entrance, but he dropped his spraying equipment to the ground and announced that he would guide us. This was done with the nonchalance of someone saying he would walk us down to the end of the block to show us where we could buy a beer. This turned out to be a rugged 4 hour hike.

Stone water trough, site of our previous encounter with a celery-loving burro. On our Part 3 hike, we were approached by a friendly burro at this spot, so I knew we were on the right path into the canyon. Bob, a hiker not with us this time, had introduced the burro to its first experience with peanut butter-topped celery. Bob made a friend for life and gained the nickname "Celery Man". Notice the natural materials used for the trough and the fence. Rough but serviceable.

South side of Cerro Garcia, a view few Gringo Lakesiders ever get. This view is to the northwest from the rising plateau as we climbed. Cerro Garcia is a very prominent feature--the highest peak actually on the lake-- when it is viewed from across the Lake on the north side of Lake Chapala. Few Gringos who live there have any idea that this lovely valley lies behind Garcia and the other mountains which rim the south side of the Lake. This valley continues west until it joins the dry lakes and the cuota which run north and south between Guadalajara and Colima.

Becca, who has become one of the "regulars". Becca is a skilled outdoorswoman who also kayaks and is learning to rock-climb and rappel. Many of the regular hikers carry dual hiking poles that look like ski poles without the little ring at the bottom. This not only gives them extra stability on trails with tricky footing, but using the poles while they climb allows them to utilize their upper body strength and take some of the load off their legs. I'm a bit more "low-tech" and just use an old stick I found in the woods. Each to his/her own.

Upper Falls through the trees. As we climbed higher into the inner canyon we began to get glimpses of the Upper Falls. Near here, we tried to find a way down into the basin. The going was very steep and, because of recent rain, very slippery. A few of our more experienced climbers scouted ahead. After a bit, they reported that while there might be a way down, it just looked too dangerous given the number hikers in our party who had little or no rock climbing experience. While some of us were disappointed at not achieving our goal, others were clearly relieved. Raul, who climbed like a mountain goat even in his cowboy boots and never seemed out of breath, suggested that there were places up ahead that we might still want to see.

Christina on the verge. Raul lead us around the rim of the canyon and down to where the water fall drops over the edge into the pool far below. Christina, above, was a young German who was passing through the area looking for adventure. She found it when she hooked up with us at the beginning of our hike. Here she is sitting on the very edge of a large flat table of rock overlooking the falls and the pool about 150 feet below. The rock was about the size of a standard living room and easily accommodated our whole group for rest and lunch and enjoyment of the spectacular view. The drop immediately to her right is 90 degrees, straight down.

View from the table rock above the Inner Falls. The view is due north. The mountains in the background are the back side of those seen when looking south across the lake from the north shore. In the foreground, the canyon stretches out in the distance toward the small town of Citala and the valley.

Till, Christina's German boyfriend, stands at the precipice enjoying the view. Till and Christina were very nice, very polite young people and hiking with them was a real pleasure. I think Till enjoyed freaking out some of our party by his fearlessness on the edge. To his left is the sheer cliff face which stretched down to the pool below.

Water cascades from the creek over the edge and down in a brown-white mist. This shot was taken from across the canyon facing the waterfall. Due to a tree which blocked our view, you couldn't see more than the mist of the fall from the table rock where we sat, but we could certainly hear it. The Inner Falls were to our left and perhaps 8 or 10 feet lower than the table rock.

Raul, at his ease. When I think of Raul, this is how I see him: relaxed, with a gentle smile on his face. He was tireless, and we could barely keep up with him. I think he was amused at the antics of the strange group of Gringos he had adopted. Although he had brought no food along, he politely refused all that was offered to him until someone finally persuaded him to accept an apple.

Even on a sheer rock cliff, life persists. This rock overhang on the right side of the table rock managed to support all kinds of plant life, and probably some small animals too.

Close-up of rock face. Some of these plants resemble spider plants I used to grow in my California apartment years ago. There are also several varieties of lichens on the rock. Life will always find a way, even in the most inhospitable places.

Shallow cave on the cliffside. About half way up the cliff across from us was a shallow cave. One hiker was convinced that some markings on the cave were made by humans. I shot this at extreme telephoto range and then blew it up in my computer. The markings turned out to be plant roots. I wasn't surprised, because the cave seemed so inaccessible from below or above. Raul told us that back in the 1970s, some young people in the area had grown marijuana in the bottom of the canyon, because it was so difficult to reach. He also told of an older legend. Long ago, a campesino had stolen some treasure from a rich hacienda owner in the area. He climbed into the canyon and hid it in a cave such as this one. The treasure, as in all good treasure stories, has never been found. Raul said that one can still find the metal pitons pounded into the cliff face by those who attempted to climb up and find it. I love it that our Barranca has a treasure story! Indiana Jones, eat your heart out!

Back on the farm, at Raul's casita. Casita literally means "little house". Raul had built this from the voluminous quantity of stones in his fields. He added some posts to hold up the tile roof and left the front open for the view down the valley. Then he surrounded the little yard with the stone wall in the foreground. He had a bunk for sleeping, a few sawed-off logs for seats, and a sheet of metal over a circle of stones for cooking. The cabin was very cozy, if rustic. Raul actually lives in Citala, but uses this place when he wants to work late on his little farm, or when he just wants to sit in splendid solitude and enjoy his million-dollar view.

Rustic building methods, but they work. The posts were simply forked trees, with log crosspieces. The whole thing was tied together with twine. This being rural Mexico, it wasn't fancy, but there was very little expense involved.

We drove into Citala, thirsting for cold cerveza. We stopped at what has become our favorite little tienda. The owner seemed very happy at the sudden flood of Gringo customers with ready money. As we waited for our beer, these two young boys came by leading their horses. The one in front is only a child, but the horse knew who was boss and placidly followed his lead. This was pretty much the only traffic on the street, except for us.

The final reward. After a hard day's hike, nothing goes better than a cold drink and a rest on a rustic bench. Now that we have been back several times over the summer, the locals have stopped looking at us like we are space aliens. They nod and smile and raise a cerveza to us in greeting. We'll be back. This concludes Part 4 of the Barranca Yerba Buena posting. Please share the link to this blog with others if you'd like, and leave a comment below or send me an email if you enjoyed this.

This completes Part 4 of my Barranca Yerba Buena series. Comments are welcome.

Hasta luego, Jim

Random rambles 'round Ajijic: Part 3 - The odd, the goofy, & the beautiful

A cheerful dragon peers from side of an Ajijic house. For the final part of my 3-part series on Ajijic, I decided to display the odd, the goofy, and the beautiful sides of this gently weird place I call home. What follows is a collection of photos, in no particular order, that I have taken over the last 3 years and some comments about my reactions to the subjects. Above, the dragon is actually a water drain pipe. Roofs in Ajijic are often nearly flat, and need a way to drain off the water that collects after our sometimes voluminous downpours. The solution is a drain pipe that extends through the wall out over the sidewalk. After a rain, or sometimes after a maid has washed down a roof terrace, a steady stream of water cascades out of the mouth of the pipe. In this case the mouth happens to wear a cheerful, toothy grin. Pedestrians learn to beware of the cascading stream.

Figure from a nightmare. I am always astonished by the art work to which Mexicans expose their young children. The figure of a naked man, hanging by chains over a roaring fire, is part of a mural decorating the entire front of an elementary school on Calle Hidalgo. Another part of the mural depicts a naked woman giving birth. The over-all subject of the mural is the history of the Conquest of Mexico, an admittedly brutal and bloody affair. I can only imagine the reaction of parents in the US if their child's elementary school sponsored a mural in similarly brutal detail of, say, the Sand Creek Massacre by the US Cavalry of peaceful Cheyenne Indians. Howls of protest would be heard all the way to Ajijic. However, Mexican children seem happy, well adjusted, gentle, and friendly despite exposure to the realities of their history. "And the truth shall make you free..."

Fiesta crowd hugely enjoys the greased pole climb. Young boys climb on each others' shoulders to reach the prizes suspended from the top of the greased pole. The prizes were nothing much, household goods and such, but frenzied efforts were made to reach them. Disconsolate, panting participants surrounded those who still had energy to make the effort. Mexicans seem to love a spectacle like this, and it certainly got my attention.

Making sand the old fashioned way. In Mexico, they say "things are expensive, labor is cheap". Just the opposite from north of the border. Local Mexican construction workers would look at you in astonishment if you suggested going to the store and buying a sack of sand to mix with cement. All they need is a shovel, an old window screen, and a stick to prop it up. A bit of work, a little sweat, and they have a nice pile of sand, ready to go. This fellow couldn't imagine what I found interesting enough to photograph, but he was happy to oblige me.

My photo may be the only remaining evidence of the Hotel Boutique. I was entranced by the painting on the sign for this Bed and Breakfast on Calle Donato Guerra when I took this photo 3 years ago. The innocent sensuality of the girl, surrounded by the cascade of flowers flowing down the wall made an interesting subject. The hotel has since passed from the scene, as things do, but the flower cascade has not, and I think of the sign every time I go by.

What to do with that inconvenient stump in your back yard? Rip it out? Cut it down? No way! Turn it in to a work of art. Such is the community in which I live. This actually seems to be a popular solution, especially with tree stumps in the Ajijic Plaza.

The musician's assistant collects the tips. It is typical of street musicians that they have someone to hustle up when anyone pauses, or even walks by. In this case, the musician is terrible, with a singing voice that would set a deaf man's nerves on edge. He is widely known among my expat friends, and often people will pay up just so he'll move along. I suspect this may be part of his strategy. Often accompanying him is this gorgeously Scandinavian-looking little girl. I have never determined exactly what the relationship is, or even if she is Mexican. She may well be, since there are many blonde Mexicans. Mexican soap operas, called telenovelas, feature significantly more blondes than those in the US.

"Bring on the mariachis". When I visited the Panteon, or town cemetery, to photograph some of the interesting grave sites, I discovered more than a smattering of Gringos in residence. Some graves go back 60-80 years. The stone above, for Ethel Vertefuell, shows that she was born in August and died in July, but the years have worn off. The epitaph puzzled me greatly: "Bring on the mariachis". At first, I thought this lady really liked to party. Some time later, I observed one of the many funeral processions that regularly passed by my house on Calle Hidalgo--the main street connecting the Parrochia church and the Panteon. To my amazement, the procession was led by a mariachi band, a la New Orleans! The epitaph's mystery was solved.

Girlfriend from hell? One of the prime times for goofyness and oddities is El Dia de los Muertos, the Day of the Dead. Mexico celebrates, and even makes fun of death, probably a much healthier attitude than the whispers and dread found so often in my home country. Above, a young girl is adorned in her Novia dress. When a girl reaches 15 years old, she has a "coming out" (Novia) celebration with a special frilly outfit vaguely resembling a wedding dress. In this case the girl chose to top the outfit with a death mask as her Dia de los Muertos costume. She struck a perfect pose for my photo.

Dolphins under your feet. The sidewalk outside your house is your own affair. Sometimes there is none at all, sometimes just crumbling concrete and stones. The homeowner who owns the sidewalk outside his substantial home decided to commission an artist to embed tile mosaics into the concrete in each section of the walkway. Just another opportunity for self-expression.

Dancing the devils away. One day I was at the Plaza and an indigenous musical group was playing. Suddenly, this huge Indian picked up a large stick and began to dance, whirling and gyrating to the music. As far as I could tell, he wasn't part of the act, but just reacting to the music. Oh, well. Just another day at the park.

Speaking of stump carving. This was a piece of one of the big trees around the perimeter of the Ajijic Plaza which died. In other places, they might just haul it away, but a local artist saw something in it. The result is grotesque, intriguing, and funny with owls merging into howling faces and grinning dancers. People sit on it, dogs lie in its cool shade, and the stump has gradually become a normal piece of the Plaza's "furniture".

Tootling his way toward the San Andres Fiesta. This young boy was practicing his clarinet in the tiny plaza in the Seis Esquinas neighborhood where I used to live. He was preparing for one of the many parades during the San Andres Fiesta. San Andres (or St. Andrew) is the patron saint of Ajijic. The Franciscan friars tacked a saints name onto the Indian names of the many indigenous villages they encountered as they Catholicized the locals. There are many fiestas in each town throughout the year, but the one celebrating that town's special saint is usually the big blowout. Ajijic is no exception. Even though he was obviously interested in what I was doing, the boy never broke off his tootling to inquire.

A hole in the sky. During the summer rainy season, we get many dramatic views of lightning storms. In the photo above, I was able to capture a quiet moment. The entire rest of the sky was covered with roiling clouds, which reached down and flowed through the mountain hollows above the town. Just at dawn, a patch of blue appeared, and the unseen sun gilded the edges of the cloud hole just before the sky closed up again.

Shrine to the Virgen de Guadalupe, by Bruno Mariscal. This lovely little shrine is located just north of the Carretera (the main street through Ajijic) on Calle Galeana. It is shaded by a huge tree and faces a small tienda (neighborhood store) where locals gather to chat. There are similar shrines, some to the Virgen, some with other themes, in neighborhoods all over town. The Virgen de Guadalupe is the patron saint of Mexico, particularly of its Indians and common people. While grafitti may deface many other surfaces in town, it rare touches anything with a representation of the Virgen.

Bruno Mariscal used a popular Mexican artistic technique. As you can see, there is more to this mural than initially meets the eye. It is actually a series of paintings within paintings. What initially appeared at a distance to be the Virgen's halo turns out to be a brick archway. Her shawl becomes a set of winged angel figures. Another signature technique of Mariscal can be seen on the left side among the trees bare of leaves. Viewed closely, they become slender masculine and feminine figures.

Viewed closely, even more appears. The Virgen's eyes and nose become figures of male and female campesinos, the common people by which she is revered. They appear to be conversing with a couple of friars or monks, one of whom is holding a pot which makes up the Virgen's mouth and chin. The highlight on her cheek becomes yet another Virgen, with more detail. One of the remarkable things about this work of art is that it does not reside in a museum or a wealthy person's home, or even in a church. It is part of a simple shrine in a neighborhood of poor people.

It's hard to outdo Mother Nature. Below, the setting sun provides yet another spectacular view of Lake Chapala. A photographer friend of mine claims sunset pictures should be outlawed from photo contests. "It's just too easy to get a beautiful shot around here."

This concludes Part three of my Rambles 'round Ajijic series. Comments are welcome!

Hasta luego, Jim