One of the mountains is Quemado, a holy mountain to the Huichol Indians. I will not bore you with a lot of the ins and outs of that. Suffice it to say that there is a huge Huichol pilgrimage to the mountain once a year for a week of ceremonies atop it. This is the mountain that Fabien, Maga, and I hiked up.
If I behave well, if I do not walk the wrong path, if my soul and heart are good and clean, then the gods welcome me. It does not matter if my hat is old and my clothes are torn. If my heart is good, I am converted into a reflection of the gods, as with a mirror. . . .Huichol Thought [My rough translation.]
Fabien had been backpacking to this mountain twice previously, and Maga once previously with him. The hike from downtown Real up to the top takes about two and a half hours and is fairly demanding. Fabien and I both carried small backpacks with food and water. Maga, her Croc Caymans on her feet as usual, led the way.
I am going to post some pictures chronologically, comment on some, and let others speak for themselves. These scenes are samples of what I saw from the path on the way up in the order they appeared. Click on any that interest you in order to see a larger format.
This is an elaborate set of ruins that straddles one of the roads into town. It is fascinating. Notice that it incorporates a couple of gates through which the road passes. I simply do not know what it is, perhaps some sort of customs house. I wish I did.