“My father would take us out into nature, and that’s where I fell in love with animals,” Prieto told Mexico News Daily. As a result, I studied veterinary medicine and zootechnology, but then along came a course in photography in the Colegio de Fotografía del Occidente. And I found my niche.”

Confluences is a hard-backed, large-format book of 208 pages published by Artes de México, 2024. It has 65 color photos, all taken by Alejandro Prieto, with seven chapters of text written by various naturalists.

Photographing jaguars in the wild

Prieto’s extraordinary skill at taking photos both on land and underwater brought him into projects that might have discouraged many another photographer.

One of these is the work he carries out for Alianza Jaguar, an organization that needed quality photos of jaguars in their natural habitats, to promote their projects to protect and ensure them a future in Mexico. To get those pictures, endless hours of effort and patience were the order of the day. Later, when Prieto got involved with photographing certain elusive species of the Mexican axolotl, which live in the remote mountains of Michoacán, the problem was surviving ice-cold temperatures underwater.

The roadrunner and the border wall

One of Prieto’s more recent projects, photographing animals whose habitat has been cut in two by the border fence separating the USA from Mexico, brought a new sort of problem.

“It’s a dangerous place,” the photographer confided. “On one hand, you’ve got border patrols that will grab you and take you out of there, and on the other, you’ve got drug runners who will do something even worse if they catch you… and on top of that, you have to put up with both extreme heat and extreme cold.”

Nevertheless, from that hostile environment came Prieto’s unforgettable photo of a roadrunner eyeballing an insurmountable wall wrapped in great coils of razor wire: winner of the 2020 World Press Photo Award for Nature.

That’s just one of 53 International awards that Alejandro Prieto has received so far, an assurance that Confluences is just the sort of book you’ll want to leave lying on your coffee table accidentally.

Canyons, forests, deserts and swamps

Why is this book entitled Confluences?

University of Wisconsin Professor Eduardo Santana makes this clear in the first chapter. West Mexico, he says, “does not have a monolithic identity… What defines its essence is the confluence of dissimilarities.”

Santana is referring to the astounding variety of natural wonders lying in wait for anyone who wanders about West Mexico.

These include smoldering volcanoes, 500-meter-deep canyons, mangrove swamps, tropical jungles, grasslands, hot springs, oak and coniferous forests, desert scrub lands, and much more.  Each environment has its own flora and fauna, not to mention the long-distance migrants: flying creatures of all sorts from hawks and pelicans to bats and butterflies. Put all these together in a relatively small space, and you have geodiversity and biodiversity in abundance.

And, of course, wherever two or more systems come together, you have confluences.

A jungle on a mountain top

Academic studies are not required to appreciate what happens in the many places where ecosystems merge. An excellent example was given to me by another Santana named Aldo, a member of the Cuzalapa people living in the heart of the picturesque Manantlán Biosphere Reserve, located along the state line dividing Jalisco from Colima:

“The Sierra de Manantlán is unique!” exclaims Aldo Santana. “In it, you will find things that are normally seen only in Chiapas, or you’ll find other things typical of Sonora. So, it is mega-diverse! It is as if you were seeing all the ecosystems together in one place. And if you are here during the rainy season, you will find everything green, a jungle. It’s a tropical jungle on a mountain top!” 

Underwater in the Gulf of California

The photographs in Confluences take us on a tour of West Mexico’s extraordinary geo and biodiversity, whether on land, in the air or, underwater.

We are introduced to marine life in the Sea of Cortés, home to an enormous array of environments, from deep basins to some of the largest tidal zones in the world. Thanks to Prieto’s skills as a diver and underwater photographer, we are introduced to silky sharks, dolphins, sea lions, surgeon fish, needle fish… as well as the marine birds flying overhead.

Among the many delightful creatures we find photographed in this book, three fascinating species stand out: jaguars, axolotls, and “flying white sheep,” otherwise known as American pelicans to those of us with less imagination than the Mexicans living on the shores of Lake Chapala.

Friends of the jaguars

An entire chapter is dedicated to this emblematic feline. Award-winning journalist Agustín del Castillo dives into the story of why and how the Jaguar Alliance came into being, and what they are doing today to transform hostile ranchers into friends of the big cats. We also follow Alex Prieto in his quest to photograph these magnificent animals in their natural surroundings: no easy task!

Flying sheep and walking fish

Del Castillo devotes two additional chapters to axolotls and American pelicans.

Axolotls — incorrectly known as “Mexican walking fish” — are among the strangest creatures on the planet. These photogenic amphibians are famed for their ability to regenerate just about every part of their bodies, including their brains and hearts. Once abundant in Mexico, their numbers are now dwindling due to the ever-increasing pollution of the country’s lakes, ponds, and rivers.

The American pelicans, on the other hand, seem to be doing better than ever. These huge birds live in Canada and along the northern US border. Every year around September, they begin their 4000-kilometer migration to warmer climes, in particular to Lake Chapala.

By chance, there is a successful fish-filleting operation on the tiny island of Petatán, Michoacán, at the southeast end of the lake, and here the pelicans gather by the thousands to enjoy the scraps. Among the many visitors to Petatán — fascinated by the site and sound of ten thousand “flying white sheep”  taking off and landing — was photographer Alejandro Prieto, and thanks to him, owners of Confluences can vicariously enjoy the show. 

To get your own copy of this extraordinary book — whether in English or in Spanish, you are asked to donate to the Jaguar Alliance. For full information, send an email to alianzajaguar@gmail.com.

John Pint has lived near Guadalajara, Jalisco, for more than 30 years and is the author of “A Guide to West Mexico’s Guachimontones and Surrounding Area” and co-author of “Outdoors in Western Mexico.” More of his writing can be found on his website.

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“This is not so surprising, considering that Jalisco is one of the richest sites in the world for obsidian deposits, ranking number four after Russia’s Kamchatka Peninsula,” added Esparza. “Nevertheless, we are losing it. Our obsidian is starting to vanish!”

Esparza’s observations come after the recent publication of a book entitled “La Obsidiana en Jalisco” (375 pages, El Colegio de Michoacán, 2025), of which he is a co-editor.

“Twelve writers contributed to this book,”  Esparza said, “giving us an up-to-date picture of what’s happening with obsidian in this state, and by extension in all of Mexico since Jalisco has more deposits of this traditional resource than any other part of the republic.”

The sharper edge

Obsidian is natural glass produced when lava flowing from a volcano cools quickly. For example, if it flows into water.

Curiously, obsidian is chemically the same as pumice, a rock which is ejected skyward from volcanoes and is so light that it floats.

Obsidian is an excellent material for blades and spearheads because it can produce a much sharper edge than any metal. The best scalpels in the world, in fact, are those made of obsidian. But, of course, they are very fragile.

The deadly Mexica sword

Because it can be used to make excellent knives and cutters, artisans have been working it since the dawn of time and have developed ingenious techniques for producing efficient blades. The Mexica even came up with a kind of machete called the macahuitl. This was a wide, flat sword made of wood with small obsidian blades glued into a slot all around the perimeter. Spaniards testified that with one blow, a macahuitl could easily decapitate a horse.

The remains of hundreds of ancient obsidian mines and workshops can be found in many parts of Jalisco, together with thousands of discarded artifacts bearing witness to a once-thriving industry that also had an impressive artistic component.

Ancient obsidian spangles

Take pre-Hispanic spangles, for instance. These are polished, coin-sized obsidian discs, only 1 or 2 millimeters thick, each perforated with a small hole. These were apparently meant to be sewn on clothing or strung together to form necklaces or bracelets. The finest of these are not discs at all, but small figures of animals or humans.

Even more astonishing are polished obsidian ear spools, just as thin as the spangles.

Today’s obsidian artisans can’t duplicate either of these, but they are using tools and techniques quite different from pre-Hispanic ones.

Still, with their grinding wheels and polishing discs, modern artisans turn out everything from spheres, hearts and butterflies to sophisticated works of art, taking full advantage of the many colors and sheens of Jalisco’s obsidian.

From Indian blood to rainbow

“We’ve found more than 20 colors here,” says Esparza. “There’s a mixture of red and black called meca, or Indian blood, which is much sought after, along with subtle meldings of gray and green. But, without doubt, the most popular kind of obsidian is arcoiris (rainbow), which gives you a mixture of almost every color.”

Some obsidians exhibit a deep sheen that almost seems to glow. Gold and silver sheens are the most sought-after.

Some of Mexico’s finest sculptors take advantage of obsidian’s special characteristics, bringing their works of molded clay to skilled artisans who reproduce them in natural volcanic glass.

In Chapter Six of “Obsidian in Jalisco,”  Esparza lists modern workshops in the towns of Tequila, Teuchitlán, Magdalena, San Marcos and Navajas. 

A visitor to any one of these workshops will have a golden opportunity to examine a variety of obsidian. Because all the workshops are continually exchanging pieces, you can quickly see everything available in the region. That would be the perfect moment to say: “Don Eleno, do you think you could turn this gorgeous piece of blue obsidian into a dolphin?”

Cheap rubble

But you’d better not wait too long to do this; the varieties and quantities of obsidian in Jalisco are on the decline.

“A key factor behind this problem,” says Esparza, “is that obsidian — which was once highly valued in Mexico — is now officially classified as cascajo (rubble), a category that also includes gravel and clinkers. Believe it or not, today you can buy obsidian for 1 peso per kilo.”

This means that forward-looking opportunists around the world can afford to purchase Jalisco obsidian in great quantities and ship it home.

Chinese connection

Naturally, the first to disappear are rarities like rainbow obsidian. For example, it was once abundant in the remote village of La Lobera, the last place in the world you’d expect to find a representative of China out looking for bargains.

But, “it’s all gone!” a local craftsman told me some years ago. “It’s all in China now.”

Another thing international bargain hunters are looking for is high-quality obsidian in large chunks. If you’d like to create the Pietà in obsidian, you have to start with a big piece. The place to go for blocks of obsidian, a cubic meter or larger in size, is a certain quarry near Magdalena, Jalisco. 

But if you go there today, they’ll tell you, “Sorry, amigo, you are too late. The Chinese cleaned us out years ago.” Alas, you may have to forget about creating the Pietà in obsidian and sculpt a pizza instead.

Another place to which Jalisco’s obsidian is escaping is Teotihuacán.

The depletion of obsidian in Mexico

“Tourists love to buy obsidian souvenirs at this famous site,” Esparza said,” but local deposits [in México state] have been depleted thanks to entrepreneurs who have shipped the obsidian to places like Saudi Arabia, Japan and China. So artisans in the Mexico City area now come to Jalisco to buy their raw materials.”

This means if you have no obsidian knick-knacks on your shelves, you’d better visit a Jalisco workshop pronto … or buy yourself a ticket to China. 

You’ll find the book “La Obsidiana en Jalisco” (entirely in Spanish) in the Colmich Bookstore. Co-editor Manuel Prados’ obsidian photo dossier can be accessed here.

John Pint has lived near Guadalajara, Jalisco, for more than 30 years and is the author of “A Guide to West Mexico’s Guachimontones and Surrounding Area” and co-author of “Outdoors in Western Mexico.” More of his writing can be found on his website.

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The project Aketzalli is talking about will connect the Pacific Crest Trail with the new National Trail of Baja California, “empowering the region’s most iconic mountain ranges and its native communities,” she says.

To create the trail, Aketzalli has been bushwhacking since October, starting from Tecate, visiting remote mountains, valleys, and canyons and plotting routes that will be interesting, challenging, and satisfying to future generations of long-distance hikers.

Although aligning the trail with Mexico’s historic Camino Real had been considered, Aketzalli’s chosen route follows mountain paths, avoiding highways while bringing hikers closer to Indigenous communities that can offer food, shelter and guidance.

Bushwhacking in BC

When she began her odyssey on October 19, she got a big send-off in Tecate by Baja California community leaders. Since then, she has been hard at work designing the trail.

“I spend a few days planning my strategy for the next section of the route, most nights camping in the mountains,” said Aketzalli. “And then I spend a few more days meeting and talking with the people in the nearby pueblitos and ranchos. This has become my new routine. It’s a different and deeply enriching way to experience thru-hiking.”

Simultaneously, Quetzal — her trail name — is recording footage for a feature-length documentary film on her creation of the Baja California trail.

“When people see what I’ve filmed,” she said, “they’re convinced I must have a camera operator marching along behind me, but I don’t. I’ve worked out techniques for getting the shot I need, which means I sometimes have to go up and down the same mountain five times.” 

Aketzalli is by profession an engineer and for years has applied her talents to the construction and maintenance of hiking trails, including the technically challenging Hanging Lake Trail in Glenwood Springs, Colorado.

Crisscrossing the US… on foot

Aketzalli hails from Mexico City, where she first took up long-distance mountain biking. In 2017, however, she decided to have a go as a hiker on the 4,270-kilometer U.S. Pacific Crest Trail. 

This, she realized immediately, was what she was meant to do. 

She went on to hike the Appalachian Trail (3,531 km) and the Continental Divide Trail (4,844 km), becoming the first — and so far only — Mexican to achieve the Triple Crown of U.S. hiking.

Today, Aketzalli offers courses in thru-hiking — meaning doing an entire trail in one go — and is fully committed to making long-distance trails a reality in Mexico. She estimates that her present trail reconnaissance will take at least another four months to complete.

Film festival winner

At the end of November, Aketzalli interrupted her Baja trek and flew to Guadalajara to attend a special short-film festival hosted by Cineforo UDG. Among the participants was the documentary “Zelzin, Huellas que Inspiran” (“Zelzin, Footprints that Inspire”). 

The film was shot on the Iztaccíhuatl volcano and its surrounding central Mexico landscapes. The documentary intertwines Aketzalli’s personal journey — growing up in a violent neighborhood in Mexico City — with her achievements in the natural world, to tell a story about resilience and empowerment.

“We won!” said Zelzin. “There were so many excellent entries in this festival… but we won! Making this cortometraje (short film) was difficult because at the same time, I was the protagonist, the producer and the director. For me, this film must be out there for all to see, just as the Baja Trail Project is getting underway.”

Aketzalli is now applying the experience she gained from producing her prize-winning short to filming her groundbreaking trek through the wilds of Baja California.

“It will be a full-length documentary on this most amazing peninsula,” she said, “but I’m definitely paying a heavy price for it. A thru-hiker’s backpack is usually very light, mostly containing food and water. Here in Baja, instead, I’m carrying all sorts of things you need to produce good cinema. I can’t believe I’m actually toting a tripod!”

What can future trekkers hope to see while following Aketzalli’s route through Baja California? For sure, they will be fascinated by the boojum tree, found almost exclusively in Baja’s Valle de los Cirios (Valley of the Candles).

Early 20th-century botanist Joseph Nelson Rose noted the boojum’s “grotesque, columnar form, rising improbably from the rocky soil,” and he compared its silhouette to a giant inverted carrot, highlighting its eccentricity among desert plants. For another botanist, Townsend Branegee, the boojum looks more like a candle (cirio), “unlike any other in the desert.”

According to the international nonprofit organization Wildcoast, Valle de los Cirios is globally unique. 

“There may be no other place that embodies the wild Pacific coastal landscapes of the Baja California peninsula,” it says on its website. “With some luck and a lot of patience, a visitor can catch glimpses of mule deer, kit foxes, bobcats, and stealthy mountain lions that wander among the giant cardon cactus and fantastical cirios, or boojum, trees.”

Gigantic rock-art murals

For geologist Carlos Lazcano, the 120-kilometer stretch between the missions of San Ignacio and Santa Gertrudis is particularly impressive.  

“The canyons are spectacular, and the Sierra de San Francisco shelters ancient rock-art sites with gigantic murals, some over 10 meters wide.”

Another region on the planned trail recommended by Lazcano is Cataviña, a geological and ecological marvel which features “dramatic canyons of white granite hiding turquoise pools of water.”

Irresistible sands

And then there’s the Baja beach. It is so enticing that British schoolteacher Graham Mackintosh couldn’t stop following it. He stepped onto the beach in the 1980s, fell in love with it and then kept on walking — for 4,800 kilometers. To really appreciate those Baja sands, I suggest you read his book, “Into a Desert Place.”

To follow Zelzín Aketzalli’s progress down the Baja California peninsula, occasionally check her on Instagram at @zelzin_aketzalli.

John Pint has lived near Guadalajara, Jalisco, for more than 30 years and is the author of “A Guide to West Mexico’s Guachimontones and Surrounding Area” and co-author of “Outdoors in Western Mexico.” More of his writing can be found on his website.

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The trek is a project of nine Zapotec communities in Oaxaca and has much to do with environmental education and conservation. It was organized by biologist Marco Antonio González some fourteen years ago.

Visiting Zapotec villages

The Zapotecas consider the trekkers collaborators rather than clients, and refer to them as “visitors.” At no point during the experience does money change hands and it is unthinkable that a trekker would tip anyone.

These caminatas are fully orchestrated. Six local guides accompany the trekkers at all times and the route they follow varies according to the circumstances of the moment, in a very Mexican fashion.

A couple from Guadalajara, Paulina Ascencio and Arturo Sánchez, signed up for the trek in October of this year.

“It started in Oaxaca City,” Arturo told me. “Marco Antonio gave us an orientation and we were then driven seven hours to San Sebastián Río Hondo, where we enjoyed a meal prepared over a wood-burning stove: carne asada, frijoles and hand-made tortillas … delicious! Then we were driven to our campsite near San Juan Ozolotepec, which had tents and dry toilets.”

“The next day,” continued his wife, Paulina, “we walked 16 kilometers through an area simply bursting with biodiversity. The variety of mushrooms we saw was astounding.”

From guacamole to grasshoppers

“As for the food on this trip,” she continued, “it was incredibly good: guacamole, cottage cheese, yellow mole, frijoles with avocado leaves, grasshoppers, bananas roasted on hot coals and delicious wild-mint tea! And throughout those six days, not a soul had stomach problems!”

The first day of hiking brought the group to Rancho Obispo near San Francisco Ozolotepec, which is only 200 meters lower in altitude than the first campsite.

Ozolotepec in these place names means “Hill of the Jaguar” in Nahuatl. For the Zapotecs and Mixtecs of Oaxaca, the jaguar represented strength, mystery and the underworld.

A horse for an ambulance

The following day, the “visitors” were on the trail for nine hours, during which they lost 2,000 meters of altitude. Also on the trail were mules carrying their equipment, along with a horse dubbed La Ambulancia.

“It was green, green, green and down, down, down with spectacular views!” says Paulina Ascencio. “Now we were in an agricultural area where they use the traditional milpa system: corn, beans and squash, all growing together. This is also the area where they grow Café Pluma, which is said to be the very best coffee produced in Mexico.

“And at last we reached a river. What a joy it was to put our tired feet into the bubbling water.”

Then it began to rain, which slowed the group down. Eventually, the rain turned into a ferocious storm and a dramatic river crossing.  After 12 hours of hiking, they arrived at San José Ozolotepec, altitude 1,223 meters, a town that can only be reached on foot. Here they slept in a churchyard because the normal campsite had been damaged by a hurricane.

River walking

There are normally only six hours of hiking on day four, following a river through mango orchards and coffee plantations, leaving plenty of time to visit local caves with rock art going back to Neolithic times. In reality, this little group of hikers ran into a second day of heavy rain, which doubled the amount of walking time.

Says Paulina Ascencio:

“At 9 p.m., we arrived at San Felipe Lachilló, dripping wet, but feeling great. The next day, we went to a nearby spring of wonderfully transparent water, which is channeled into several big swimming pools. They call this place Yuviaga. Above the spring, there is a kitchen where we had the best food of the trip. Take the eggs, for example. They start with a large green leaf called hoja santa, which they put on the hot comal. Once the leaf is pliable, they break an egg on it, wrap the egg in the leaf and roast it. Then you eat it with frijoles, salsa and nopales. Delicious!”

Jungles and junk food

The final day of hiking included only 12 kilometers of walking and took the trekkers through an old coffee plantation, followed by jungles filled with huge trees, after which they arrived at San Miguel del Puerto, the first town they had seen on the entire excursion.  

“We walked into a little shop,” said Arturo, “and couldn’t resist buying junk food and beer. Thus fortified, we came to our last campsite at a place called Mandimbo, which has an incredible botanical garden. Here we saw many of the plants we had been eating throughout the trek. They even showed us a bromeliad named after this village. Then we walked to the campsite, at the top of a little hill, underneath a beautiful palapa, where all of us took showers around the back, under a hose.”

The last day of the trek features rafting down the Copalita River, a haven for hundreds of bird species, finishing up on La Bocana Beach, known for its great surfing waves and mud baths, at a restaurant famed for its delicious mariscos (seafood). From here, a bus takes people to their hotels in Huatulco.

Does this sound like your kind of adventure? If so, you’ll find full information on the Camino Copalita website, which is in English. Happy trekking!

John Pint has lived near Guadalajara, Jalisco, for more than 30 years and is the author of “A Guide to West Mexico’s Guachimontones and Surrounding Area” and co-author of “Outdoors in Western Mexico.” More of his writing can be found on his website.

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Elcano’s achievement encouraged Spanish navigators to try to reach the Far East starting from Mexico’s Pacific coast.

The birth of the Far East trade

On November 21, 1564, a convoy of boats sailed from the port of Barra de Navidad, Jalisco, with the aim of reaching the Philippines, and then somehow finding their way back, a serious challenge due to unfavorable winds.

“Five boats started out from Barra de Navidad,” says Guadalajara’s award-winning historian, Padre Tomás de Hijar Ornelas, “but the first one of them to make it to the Philippines and back was a patache, a little sailboat named the San Lucas, piloted by Alonso de Arrellano. The San Lucas got separated from the convoy but made it to the Philippines, discovered several islands and then sailed back to Mexico, following a route plotted by Andrés de Urdaneta, which involved sailing northeast from Manila to Japan to catch the favorable Westerlies that brought the San Lucas to the shores of northern California, after which it followed the coast back down to Barra de Navidad.

The grueling voyage

For the next 250 years, the Manila galleon followed this route, making a round trip from Acapulco once a year. The grueling return typically lasted five or six months, and dozens of crew members would succumb to scurvy, dehydration, starvation or heat stroke.

Despite all this, the tornaviaje, as it was soon called, proved very profitable. 

America was now linked, by trade, both to Europe and to the Far East. Globalization had become a reality. 

Silver, vanilla and cacao for China

“The Manila Galleon was more popularly known as the Nao de China,” de Hijar told me. “From the new world it carried silver coins minted in Mexico City — it was the first dollar in the world! Then there was vanilla, cacao, tobacco and cochineal (carmine dye), which is made from insects found on the pads of prickly pear cacti.

“One more important item was henequen. In seawater, the fibers would last ten times longer than hemp. So, henequen rope was invaluable for marine use. Believe me, if you were a Malay pirate, you had to have rigging made of henequen!”

Silk and spices to Mexico

To Mexico, the Nao de China brought the most prized goods of the Far East: silk, spices, porcelain, carved ivory and Asian lacquerware.

As far as spices go, a cursory examination of dishes popular in Guadalajara shows how radically Mexican cuisine was influenced by contact with the Far East.

Birria, mole and ponche

Birria, for example, is a rich, spiced meat stew that originated in Jalisco. While its base is Mexican, it includes:

• Cinnamon – From Ceylon (now Sri Lanka), it adds a sweet-spicy undertone. 
• Cloves – Native to Indonesia and used in the marinade for their pungency. 
• Black Pepper – Now ubiquitous, it originated in India and is common in the spice rub. 
• Cumin – Though often associated with Middle Eastern cuisine, it was traded through Asia and adds earthy warmth. 

Mole is a very Mexican sauce made with several spices that trace their origins to Asia. Like birria, it contains cloves, black pepper and cinnamon. Some regional variations also use star anise (from South China), which adds licorice-like sweetness.

Ponche, Christmas punch, is as Mexican as can be, but again borrows from Asian spice traditions. In it, you’ll find cloves, which give it spicy warmth, and Ceylon cinnamon sticks. For tang, ponche has tamarind, now very popular in Mexico, but originally from tropical Africa and widely cultivated in India and Southeast Asia. Sometimes Mexicans add ginger to their ponche to give it a zesty kick. Ginger started out in Southern China and eventually spread all over Asia.

Guadalajara, the cultural sponge

The galleon created a culinary mestizaje — a fusion of Asian, indigenous and Spanish traditions that still flavors Mexican cuisine today.

Guadalajara became a cultural sponge, absorbing Asian aesthetics and flavors and blending them into its own vibrant identity. The great galleon — which could carry up to 2,000 tons of cargo plus a crew of over 400 — brought not only goods, but ideas and technology. It brought new techniques for weaving, for making lacquer and ceramics, for navigation, and for printing with woodblocks.

From coconut spirit to tequila

One example of a technique that revolutionized Mexico was the introduction of the Filipino alambique (still) to the Pacific coast of Colima to turn the fermented sweet sap of the coconut palm (tubâ) into a liquor known as lambanóg (palm spirit). This was so successful that the Spanish crown ordered all the coconut palms cut down. 

Instead of buying Spanish brandy, the Colima Filipinos applied their alambiques to distilling the sweet juice of cooked agave fibers, giving birth to mezcal and tequila.

Note that neither Filipinos nor coconuts are native to Mexico, and probably reached Colima when the Manila galleon stopped off in Manzanillo.

“How did Guadalajara become a global city?” I asked de Hijar, when the destination of the Manila Galleon was Acapulco?”

Global, thanks to contraband

“In a word: contraband,”  replied the padre. “Most of the cargo was bought and paid for in advance and ended up in Mexico City, but before reaching Acapulco, the Nao de China would stop off in San Blas and Manzanillo, where the crew did wonderful business. And from both of these ports there was a Camino Real, leading, of course, to the capital of New Galicia, Guadalajara.”

So, when you are next in Guadalajara and are served a very Mexican café con canela for breakfast, please note that the café came from Ethiopia and the canela from Ceylon. Welcome to the global city!

John Pint has lived near Guadalajara, Jalisco, for more than 30 years and is the author of “A Guide to West Mexico’s Guachimontones and Surrounding Area” and co-author of “Outdoors in Western Mexico.” More of his writing can be found on his website.

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Supposedly, the Father of the Revolution, Miguel Hidalgo, even used these tunnels to escape his enemies and Benito Juárez found them handy for getting around the city unnoticed. People still talk about the story of a group of priests who were in the cathedral one minute and then suddenly appeared at the governor’s palace for a meeting. When the meeting was over, it was said, they reappeared at the cathedral, having never been seen upon the city streets.

Friar Buzeta to the rescue

An investigation into these mysteries, carried out in 2013 by Dr. Alicia Torres Rodríguez of the University of Guadalajara, revealed the truth behind the rumors. The legendary “tunnels of Guadalajara” are actually galerías filtrantes, underground aqueducts constructed during the colonial period to direct potable water into the city.

Most of them, says Torres, “owe their origin to a Franciscan Friar named Pedro Buzeta.”

In the 1700s, she says, the city was desperately short of water. Word reached the city fathers that a Spanish friar had recently succeeded admirably in bringing water to the city of Veracruz, and they sent for him. 

Buzeta soon determined that water could be found on the north and southwestern skirts of Guadalajara and that the best way to carry it into the city was not via aqueducts but through a gravity-based filtration gallery, which employs 3,000-year-old technology originating in Persia.

This underground aqueduct is widely known by its Arabic name: qanat.

How to dig a qanat

To dig a qanat, technical experts called muqannis trace a straight line above ground between a well and a distant site where water is needed. At regular intervals along this line, workers dig holes less than a meter wide, down to an exact depth — different for each hole.

Next, all the holes are joined together underground, resulting in a tunnel perhaps 2 meters high and 1 meter wide, with a downward slope of less than 2 degrees. 

The final step is to connect the tunnel to the water well. This is tricky indeed, and if it’s not done exactly right, the person making the connection may not survive. Once water is slowly moving through the filtration gallery, all the access holes are covered with flat rocks to keep the qanat clean and to reduce evaporation. 

This technology proved very popular and was adapted by the Arabs, the Romans, the Chinese and the Spaniards, who brought it to Mexico. Most qanats are less than five kilometers long, but some are over 70 kilometers in length.

‘This is not a cave!’: Guadalajara’s hidden qanats

For many years, I was a cave explorer in western Mexico, which led to my first encounter with a qanat in the hills above the little town of La Venta del Astillero, located just west of Guadalajara.

It seemed at first that our group of speleologists had discovered a very long, very curious cave with 70 small roof entrances in a straight line, spaced 11 meters apart. Those holes produced beams of light that we found both picturesque and useful. 

But when we invited archaeologist Phil Weigand to take a look at it, he immediately said: “John, this is not a cave; it’s a qanat!”

Once we recognized the pattern, we found several more qanats in the area. One of these finds occurred after a request from the director of a tree farm at the northwest end of Guadalajara.

‘A request like this is what cavers live for’

“There’s a kind of well on our property with iron rungs that go down to a locked gate. Behind the gate, there’s a long tunnel. Would you please come and tell us what this is?”

A request like this is what cavers live for. We arrived with lights, helmets and survey gear.

“Inside that tunnel, did you see any small holes in the roof?” I asked the director.

“No, I didn’t,” he said — which surprised me.

We clambered down the rungs, the tree farm director unlocked the gate and we found ourselves at the start of a long, straight tunnel just over 1 meter wide and almost 2 meters high— not quite spacious enough for a carriage but perhaps enough for a small horse. 

The walls and the curved roof were made of brick and looked in good condition. Water was running along a channel on the right.

“This looks suspiciously like a qanat, and a very elegant one at that,”  I told him.

We began our survey, and exactly 100 meters from our starting point, we found an opening above our heads: a shaft with footholds, leading up to a kind of manhole cover with sunlight streaming through a small hole.

Every 100 meters, there was a shaft, indicating that this was, indeed, a qanat. 

After 300 meters, our passage emptied into a big, round pool. On the other side, we could see tunnels similar to the one we were in. They led off to other places.

By now, it was clear: We were inside the network of qanats built under the supervision, or at least inspiration, of Friar Buzeta.

20 kilometers of crumbling qanats

By the beginning of the 20th century, Dr. Torres estimates, Guadalajara was supplied by nine lines of filtration galleries with a total length of up to 20 kilometers.

Amazingly, these qanats, built between 1731 and 1895, still supply a substantial amount of water to the city.

Unfortunately, no one knows exactly where they are located. “They have been abandoned,” says Torres, “and they are beginning to crumble.”

Bear that in mind in case someone invites you on an underground tour of Guadalajara.

John Pint has lived near Guadalajara, Jalisco, for more than 30 years and is the author of “A Guide to West Mexico’s Guachimontones and Surrounding Area” and co-author of “Outdoors in Western Mexico.” More of his writing can be found on his website.

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Hikers in Aguascalientes are working to set up a properly signposted and maintained 100-kilometer trail in their state, which they call El Camino de la Asunción. A few days ago, trekkers from Jalisco gave the trail a trial run. Below is a trip report by Matteo Volpi, founder of Volpi Outdoor Gear in Guadalajara.

Flowers, turtles and St. Peter’s palm

Eleven members of the Guadalajara hiking group, Secta Volcánica, arrived at San José de Gracia the evening of September 12. We camped in Parque Alameda and started hiking the next morning at 6 a.m., joined by seven hikers from Aguascalientes. 

Immediately, we entered a green desert with prickly-pear cacti and St. Peter’s palm, a yucca as lovely as a Joshua tree. Everything was blooming, with lots of flowers. For me, it was like a throwback to the Pacific Crest Trail. It was beautiful.

The first thing we came to was La Santa Cruz, a hill with a huge cross on top. You have to climb some stairs to get to the cross. From there, you can see a picturesque canyon in the distance. Here, I was truly impressed by the beauty of Aguascalientes. 

In the other direction, you could see a small town where Mexican independence hero Miguel Hidalgo went after he lost the battle of Puente de Calderón … and where they took his army away from him. We saw this on the Independence holiday, very Mexican. 

It was just at the right moment. Everything was wonderfully green. We were told it had been years since it rained so much, so it was the very best time to walk this trail. 

Then we hiked to the rim of the canyon we had seen and down to the bottom. Well, there were St. Peter’s palms again, with streams flowing everywhere … and there were turtles too. I was impressed.

Yoga, birria and banda

We crossed the canyon and hiked back up to the rim on the opposite side. After trekking 23 kilometers, we arrived at the town of Rincón de Romos, where they just happened to be celebrating their Feria de la Birria.

Here, the local mayor received us in this beautiful park, which has a picturesque pool. And he said, “Bienvenidos! We have some yoga mats here for you, and physiotherapists who will help you do some stretching exercises after your hike.”

“Claro que sí,” we replied. “Let’s do some stretching!” This was looking more and more like a Mexican-style trek, with all the comforts and conveniences that one could ever want. 

After all this, we took a shower at a gym a couple of blocks from the park. And then, of course, we went to the main plaza to eat some of that famous birria.

They had set up a big stage where very loud banda music was playing. And there we sat, eating birria and drinking tequila. It seemed too good to be true!

The next morning, we got up at 5 a.m., and I was dead tired, but we had 23 kilometers ahead of us, so we started walking. 

Vineyards and prairies

We were now in the Valle de Aguascalientes, a very active farming region. So we went from wild nature on our first day to this agricultural environment on our second. We hiked through vineyards and fields of corn and lettuce. And it was so beautiful!

Finally, we arrived at the observatory and planetarium in the town of Tepezalá, where I slept on the roof, hoping to see some stars, but it was too cloudy. The next morning, we found ourselves walking through prairies, which, in reality, were probably abandoned crop fields.

Suddenly, we had five dogs hiking with us. Unfortunately, several of them had been rolling in something disgusting and smelled really bad. When we came to some railroad tracks, we decided to chase off the dogs. This, we succeeded in doing. But now we found that our trail was flooded.

Bushwhacking our way to Milwaukee

This forced us to start bushwhacking, and we ended up walking through unfriendly weeds that stuck to everyone’s pants like glue — except for me, as I was the only one wearing shorts. But the bushwhacking brought us to three beautiful, abandoned haciendas, where we came upon a huge walnut tree, which was just beautiful.

After 34 kilometers, we arrived at Rancho Ubuntu, which reminded me of a typical desert camping park in the U.S. Here we bathed in a nice little lake, and then I slept like a baby for the rest of the night.

The next morning, we continued hiking and came to a sign saying “Milwaukee: 6 kilometers.” This gives you an idea of what this trek was like: lots of surprises.

Royal treatment

We eventually found ourselves on paved roads, entering the city of Aguascalientes and walking to the cathedral. The idea was to visit the Virgin of the Assumption, after whom the trail is named. 

At a certain point, the streets were closed off due to a parade that took place earlier that day. They kept it closed a little longer just for us, so we marched down the middle of the main avenue all by ourselves. They really gave us the royal treatment!

Once again, it was all very Mexican. I loved this trek!

Would you like to hike this trail? See the Camino de la Asunción.

John Pint has lived near Guadalajara, Jalisco, for more than 30 years and is the author of “A Guide to West Mexico’s Guachimontones and Surrounding Area” and co-author of “Outdoors in Western Mexico.” More of his writing can be found on his website.

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Coaches instead of teachers

In 2015, IMI began replacing traditional textbooks, teachers and curricula with iPads, coaches and a monthly challenge that transforms students into investigators and researchers.

Why coaches rather than teachers? Says IMI Director Luis Medina: “We call them coaches because we want them to behave like sports coaches. Sports coaches don’t do the push-ups for you, don’t play the game for you. They’re on the side supporting you, but you get to play the game.”

Every morning, the kids at IMI check their instructions for the day’s activities, and their coach tells them what they will be trying to accomplish. Then everybody puts their shoulder to the wheel.

Gemini to the rescue

Now, Medina told me, AI has been incorporated into the program, thanks to Google, which recently launched a version of its Gemini program designed for students under the age of 13.

“Each of our students now has his or her own specialized virtual assistant,” Medina told me. “So if a student didn’t understand something his coach explained in math, he can go to his ‘Math Gem’ and the Gem will explain everything. And, of course, you can converse with AI, as if it were a person. The Gem is told: ‘You are an expert in math for kids in third grade. Your job is to help the student.’

“Maybe the child says, ‘I didn’t understand addition and subtraction of fractions.’  So the AI explains how to add and subtract fractions. And it can keep on explaining until the student gets it. It has endless patience.”

Apart from Gemini, explained Medina, Google has created other AI programs for schools like his. 

“There’s Google NotebookLM, for example. You just show a PDF to it and you say: turn this into a mental map, into a podcast, summarize it, turn it into a study guide.”

AI Studio

“Then there is AI Studio. It helps the students to create videos, images, presentations, or spreadsheets. These three applications give the student a lot of information and ways to do deeper investigations. For example, the student says, ‘Make me a video about a plant, showing all the stages from seed to flower.’

“Then the student shares this with his or her companions, and later this is included among the group’s monthly publications. They have to create a magazine with images, text and videos. They take the material AI gives them, and rework it, giving it their own personal touch.”

Google also has special forms of Gemini to assist the school’s staff. “We now have our own experts in psychology, planning, mathematics and even in educational law,” Medina says, “to make sure the teachers don’t do something that could be considered negligent or illegal.”

Kids turned into researchers

Since his school has done away with textbooks, I asked Medina what it is that students work on day by day.

I learned that every month, the coaches present the students with a challenge. For example, they might ask second graders, “How can you protect endangered species in your community?” More specifically, the children might be asked, “Which animals do I see in my community? How are they treated?”

These might be followed by even more specific questions, like “What do I feel when I’m in contact with nature, with animals? How do I personally take care of them?”

Then they investigate. Which of these animals belongs to my state or my city or my country? What are their needs?  Where do they live? What has happened to them?

All these questions lead the students into geographical and historical studies of the type Mexican educational authorities want to see. Then they might collaborate to create solutions to these problems, asking themselves, “What can we do? How can we prevent animals from becoming extinct?”

“It’s wonderful how they put these things into action,” Medina told me. “Little kids from second grade will put bird feeders outside their house. They come up with so many ideas!”

To carry out their research, the kids use an iPad. “You’d be amazed at what you can do with it,” says Medina. “It can become a microphone, a camera, a microscope, a telescope or a publisher. On your dining room table, it can project a chemistry set which you can actually use, or a model of a river basin, or even the entire solar system. It’s a powerful tool.”

The future of AI

“In the world of learning, where is AI taking us?” I asked another of Mexico’s innovative educators, who wishes to remain anonymous.

“One thing is clear,” she replied. “In a very near future, it’s not going to be about humans versus AI. It’s going to be between humans who know how to use AI in their favor and those who don’t. At one point in time, forks, knives and fire were super innovative. Well, fire is a technology that transformed us. But if you don’t use it carefully, you get burnt.”

To discover how Mexico News Daily is using AI innovation to help young learners in schools in Mexico and the United States, check out the MND Kids website.

John Pint has lived near Guadalajara, Jalisco, for more than 30 years and is the author of “A Guide to West Mexico’s Guachimontones and Surrounding Area” and co-author of “Outdoors in Western Mexico.” More of his writing can be found on his website.

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One of the factors that brought the curvy sedan into the public eye was the unforgettable day a little white Vocho — equipped with a 30-centimeter propeller — chugged across Chapala, Mexico’s biggest lake.

That crossing took place on September 8, 1968. The story of the event was widely published, but details were scarce, and many papers embellished their reports.

In search of the real story

To get the true and full story, I sat down with Jorge Viera, president of the Volkswagen Classic Club in Guadalajara, who spent years looking for the mechanics who made the car amphibious and piloted it across the lake.

“I knew eight of the 14 people involved,” Viera told me, “and one of them introduced me to the man who organized the whole thing: Alois Poppenreiter. He was an Austrian-Hungarian engineer brought to Guadalajara by Volkswagen Americas to act as Service Manager.

“It was in 1968 that the idea of floating the little car occurred to Poppenreiter. Volkswagen had announced that their sedan was the most hermetic car to be found and had made ads saying it floated, but it wasn’t really true. Poppenreiter, however, decided he was going to do it; he was going to make a Volkswagen float, and he was going to make it float right across Lake Chapala!”

Poppenreiter got together with several equally enthusiastic Mexican mechanics at Volkswagen Americas, and the owners of the dealership provided them with a used 1968 sedan. For the next six months the team worked on this project during their free time. They were never paid anything for this and always made it clear they had done it for fun.

They started out by putting the Vocho through their car wash to see just how watertight it was. 

“Then they began work on sealing it up,” says Viera. “People say they use silicon, but it didn’t exist in those days! Actually, they used a product called Apcoseal, as well as putty, cork, and even egg whites: nothing fancy!

Beneath black waters

“Next, they went to a nearby park called Avila Camacho, where there was a dam. Well, a certain amount of what we call ‘aguas negras’ (raw sewage) flowed into that dam, but that didn’t hold back the team. They built a ramp, drove the Vocho into it… and it sank! They had to pull it out with a tractor and ropes.”

Years later, Marcelo de Loza, one of the Mexican mechanics, recalled the event. “The water in that dam was dirty and smelled bad. We went back to the agency and washed both the car and ourselves. I ended up stinking for three days,”

By trial and error, the project advanced. The car’s 1200 engine had been ruined by water leaking into it and was replaced by a 1500. Adjustments were made to keep the oil in and the water out. A modified worm gear had to be made on a lathe.

Water snakes and lilies

“Next,” continues Viera, “they tested the car at the Ajijic Yacht Club and Lake Cajititlán where they ran into problems from water snakes and ‘lirios,’ water hyacinths that carpeted many local lakes and lagoons in those days.”

By now, the Vocho had a removable 30-cm bronze propeller on the back, industrial tubing extending its exhaust pipes above water level, and a snorkel on its carburetor.

At last, they made their final tests in Lake Chapala.

The lake crossing was to take place on September 8 and for the event they hired two speedboats to accompany them in case of trouble. 

It’s important to note that the doors of the Vocho were sealed and couldn’t be opened even in an emergency. If the car began to sink, they would have to exit via the windows.

The pilot of the amphibious vehicle was Alois Poppenreiter himself and the copilot was the man in charge of the electrical system, Marcelo de Loza, who, however, was specifically chosen for co-pilot “as he was an excellent swimmer.” De Loza operated the car’s two bilge pumps. The public didn’t know about these because the water was being pumped out of the car through the glove compartment.

Finally came the day of the crossing. The would-be mariners attached a 30-meter-long agave-fiber rope to the bumper, in case the car went to the bottom. This was coiled and hanging on the outside mirror on the driver’s side. They informed the newspapers, and lots of people showed up.

The plan was to launch the boat at 12:00 noon from San Luis Soyatlan at the southwest corner of the lake. They expected to reach Ajijic at 2:00 p.m. and Chapala at 3:00.

“However, says Viera, “there they were on the 8th, ready to launch, but the two speed boats were nowhere to be seen. The reason was the waves. They were so high that no boats of any kind were allowed on the lake. It was too dangerous.”

“Well, after a while, the waves calmed down and they immediately launched the Vochito, accompanied by an ordinary rowboat. It was only halfway through the event that one of those speed boats arrived. There were stories that a scuba diver accompanied them, but these were just rumors.”

Choppy waters

Chapala or bust

“We left San Luis Soyatlán at about 12:15,” recalled de Loza in a TV Azteca interview, “and, sure enough, after a little while the motor died…but, we managed to get it going again and carried on, reaching Ajijic at about 4:00 p.m., but then we had to keep going in the water to reach Chapala. That took us another two hours.”

When they arrived, a euphoric crowd of locals and tourists welcomed the Vochito at the pier — and then began the fiesta!

The car was put on exhibit in Volkswagen Americas for a while and — restored for normal operation — made its final public appearance at Jalisco Stadium during a World Cup soccer game in 1970. It was driven to the middle of the pitch where, to the crowd’s delight, out of it emerged all eleven members of Mexico’s team, who had been crammed inside. The car was then sold and lost track of, but the Vocho that crossed the lake will never be forgotten.

John Pint has lived near Guadalajara, Jalisco, for more than 30 years and is the author of “A Guide to West Mexico’s Guachimontones and Surrounding Area” and co-author of “Outdoors in Western Mexico.” More of his writing can be found on his website.

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Driving only a few hours, you can immerse yourself in cool, shady forests, desert scrub land, or flat, highland prairies, and if you go far enough west in the Magic Circle, you’ll come to Mexico’s tropical ecosystems.

According to Richard Rhoda and Tony Burton’s excellent geography book “Geo-Mexico,” you’ll find both Tropical Evergreen Forests and Tropical Thorn Forests along the Pacific Coast. In the states of Nayarit and Jalisco, these tropical forests are likely to take the form of swamps and mangrove thickets.

One of the best places to discover the wonders of mangroves is San Blas, Nayarit, now just a three-hour-and-three-minute drive from the west end of Guadalajara, thanks to improved highways. While not technically part of Jalisco, the southern tip of the state has become one with the Puerto Vallarta area, thanks to rapidly improved transport links.

Exploring the mangroves

Some head for San Blas because it is reputed to have  “the world’s longest surfable waves,” but for me, the big attraction is an early-morning panga ride through the mangroves of the Estuary of San Cristobal. So tall are the mangroves and so thick is the vegetation that parts of these channels have become tunnels, interconnected in an extensive labyrinth that only the boaters can navigate.

In the early morning, the perfectly still water mirrors the jungle canopy overhead. Long, smooth mangrove roots reach down from the branches above, where giant bromeliads are perched among exotic orchids.

But the birds are the big attraction. People say that half the known birds of Mexico are lurking among the mangroves!

Here you will see whimbrels, wood storks, roseate spoonbills, anhingas, and if you look carefully, you may spot a boat-billed heron, which hides in shady spots and somehow manages to look cute even though it has a bill shaped more like a shoe than a boat.

La Manzanilla Crocodile Sanctuary

While San Blas is the place to go for bird-watching, I suggest you head for El Cocodrilario de La Manzanilla, Mexico’s biggest crocodile sanctuary,  if you really want to learn something about these reptiles. There are close to 500 crocs there, all well cared for by a local group called Cipactli (crocodile in Náhuatl) whose relationship with these creatures may be older than Mexico itself.

Turtle Beach

If it’s turtles you’d like to see, and perhaps release, you can visit the Center for the Protection and Conservation of the Sea Turtle, located 21 kilometers south of San Blas on aptly named Playa de las Tortugas. They liberate turtles every evening at five, and, if you wish, you can camp at the center or along the picturesque, undeveloped beach adjacent to it.

Pristine Dolphin Beach

In spite of much development of Mexico’s West Coast — from palapas to luxury resorts — quiet, delightful, undisturbed beaches can still be found.

Many years ago, I discovered my dream beach simply by hiking north at low tide from popular, crowded Playa Platanitos, Nayarit.

We soon came to a solitary stretch of sand bordered by big, beautiful rocks at each end, with a grove of palm trees just above the silver sand, offering precious shade. The only footprints we could find on this idyllic beach were those of raccoons.

Gazing out to sea, we spotted a pod of dolphins leaping out of the water. Fortunately, we discovered a rough dirt road connecting this little beach to the main highway, and it soon became our favorite place to camp on the coast.

Although today a locked gate prevents vehicle access, Dolphin Beach looks the same as it did 30 years ago, and on my last visit the only footprints I found were still those of raccoons.

Hiking through the jungle

Besides sandy beaches and mangroves, West Mexico’s Pacific Coast features jungles.

If you’d like to have a truly exotic jungle experience, I recommend a hike to Cascada el Nogalito, located about 16 kilometers south of Puerto Vallarta. It’s a round trip of six kilometers and takes around four hours. Be prepared to get wet: you’ll be walking in — not alongside — a gorgeous river.

The hike turns into a fascinating and educational experience if you go with a local guide. You will discover orchids, bromeliads, medicinal vines, giant ferns, strangler figs and the curious papelillo tree with its paper-thin, peeling bark. You will see termite nests which have been turned into homes by the local parakeets, and you may even spot bizarre creatures like the basilisk, famed for its ability to run across water.

To get the most out of the experience, go there guided by a marine biologist.

Vallarta Botanical Garden

Perhaps the single most beautiful spot in West Mexico’s tropical ecosystems is Vallarta Botanical Garden, which is located 24 kilometers south of Puerto Vallarta on 32 hectares of hills and dales covered with so many plant species that no one can count them.

The owner of the Garden, Robert Price, told me that he fell in love with the place 21 years ago. when he had asked a man selling flowers to show him where he was getting his orchids from.

The beauty of this spot, with its network of fascinating trails, is astounding. Don’t miss it, and when you go, be prepared to spend the whole day there. 

Watch out… if you visit all the sites listed above, you may never want to go home!

John Pint has lived near Guadalajara, Jalisco, for more than 30 years and is the author of “A Guide to West Mexico’s Guachimontones and Surrounding Area” and co-author of “Outdoors in Western Mexico.” More of his writing can be found on his website.

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