North America Travel

On Track: U.S. National Parks and Amtrak

by Robert Hale

This is an interesting anniversary year. The US National Park Idea (America’s Best Idea) is 140 years old; Amtrak is 40 years old. They are connected!

Let’s go back to the summer of 1957 for a snippet of a conversation: “If it weren’t for the railroads you and I might be selling newspapers. Take a long look at that down there.”

That’s Jack, my boss at the Great Northern Railroad desk in Glacier Park Lodge. A summer passenger agent – me, holding down a three-month long job – is listening intently to a man who knows the story.

Slowly rolling past the Glacier Park east entrance is the Empire Builder, with its sparkling new Great Domes. The Builder doesn’t stop at the park. That’s the duty of its sister train, the Western Star. The Star is an equally sleek streamliner (but without the domes) that runs between Chicago, and Seattle and Portland.

Jack’s not smiling. “Take a long look. You’ll never see another new car on the Great Northern, or any other line. That’s the end of it. We might be selling newspapers yet!”

It all began when the Northern Pacific slammed down the last spike in 1882 and its trains started chugging passengers to Yellowstone. That event got the nation looking at itself – in person, first hand!

Early train travel was expensive. It was much like riding Amtrak today – beyond the budget of most Americans! But, that fit the plans of the railroads. The railroads knew that the more the wealthy rode, the quicker the fares could come down bringing more Americans to the rails. And to make sure that happened, the Northern Pacific went on an advertising campaign unlike anything seen before in the US and Europe. Magazine ads, newspaper ads, billboards and flyers – there wasn’t an advertising outlet the Northern Pacific missed. The NP could take travelers west to the parks and to the ocean.

The Northern Pacific saw potential profit from the vastness and emptiness of the Yellowstone area. To that end it not only promoted the geysers through advertising and word-of-mouth, it used every bit of political pressure it could muster to have the area declared a “national park.”

It is that “pressure” and the tactics employed by the railroad that moved Yellowstone’s late historian, Aubrey L. Haines, to excoriate the railroad. Heavy-handed, cajoling, threatening, exploiters, bad guys, devious, sly, cunning, Haines says of the NP.

But, one has to ask: “If not the railroad, then who?”

Haines then attacks the Northern Pacific for, “…the mundane purpose of making a profit, in this case by hauling tourists…” A profit…by hauling tourists. Hauling tourists, why the very thought of it…a really bad idea…almost evil! Mundane, indeed…But, a question: “If not a profit, than for what?”

There is one more evil characteristic of the railroad according to Haines: Monopoly! That’s been the operative word since the beginning of the railroads and the national parks. Hotels, buses, and service stations are each operated as a monopoly within the national parks…by law!

Make no mistake here; the Northern Pacific was in it all the way to make a profit – an idea that rankled historian Haines no end. What the motive of the railroad should have been he did not say.

For certain, along the way the NP manipulated, pressured, and buttonholed to get it’s way – and right-of-way – in Yellowstone. Business was, for good or evil, being conducted the way business was conducted in the 19th and early 20th centuries.

The NP invited artist Thomas Moran to visit the area and to help promote it as a tourist destination. Moran’s paintings of the falls marked the “beginning of the beginning” for America’s National Parks.

The Northern Pacific’s exploration and development of Yellowstone moved other railroads to “sell” the vistas and wild spectacles along their rights-of-way. The Southern Pacific pushed hard for the establishment of Yosemite, Sequoia, and General Grant National Parks. General Grant was eventually absorbed into Kings Canyon National Park.

The Santa Fe railroad went “All the Way” to the Grand Canyon, where it built a luxury hotel and resort complex. The Union Pacific established itself on the opposite side of the canyon. The park facilities are still bringing in visitors by the thousands.

Eventually, Santa Fe, Union Pacific, Southern Pacific, Northern Pacific, Great Northern, Burlington, Milwaukee Road, Chicago and Northwestern, all had stops adjacent to, or relatively near various national parks.

In contrast to almost every other rail line, the Great Northern bought its own roadbed, not relying on federal government arrangements, as it laid down track to the west coast. In addition to hotels – in two countries, one must add – the Great Northern added several chalets along high mountain trails in Glacier Park to accommodate over-night hikers. Great Northern’s Western Star made two “front door” stops in Glacier National Park– East Glacier, and Belton on the western edge.

Taking a train to the national parks today is obviously not what it once was. Amtrak’s Empire Builder still makes the two Glacier Park stops. Amtrak will get you to Merced, California and then an Amtrak bus will transport you to Yosemite Valley. Amtrak’s Southwest Chief, a descendant of Santa Fe’s famous Chief and Super Chief trains, arrives in Williams, AZ where visitors can board the Grand Canyon Railway’s spiffy, shiny, and sleek service right to the rim! The latter is a daily excursion train – a delightful experience on a highly spruced up train. And that’s about it for train rides to the Parks!

So, while the famous delightful over-night experiences of comfy beds and pillows, expertly prepared meals, and the perfect pace for traveling are available on precious few Amtrak trains, the National Parks are still there, beckoning with their ageless wonders. And, if you plan it correctly, you can still fall asleep to the rhythm of the rails. So, Happy birthday National Park Service; Happy birthday Amtrak!

(Oh…and those newspapers Jack thought we might be selling… they’re in not doing so well either!)

If You Go:

Amtrak Train Travel Info: www.seat61.com/UnitedStates.htm

About the author:
Freelance writer, Bob Hale is a former Chicago radio and TV broadcaster. His college summers were spent in the passenger departments the Burlington Railroad in Chicago, and the Great Northern in Glacier National Park.

Photo credits:
Amtrak train and passengers by: National Archives at College Park / Public domain
Northern Pacific Montana poster illustration: Boston Public Library / Public domain

The Tall Tale of Paul Bunyan

Bemidji, Minnesota

by Norman A. Rubin

The story of Paul Bunyan, together with Babe the Blue Ox richly rooted in history and tradition, is now considered to be one of America’s greatest folk tales; and so be it. This legendary superman and woodsman, hero of the early logging days, was born in Bemidji, Minnesota. The actual site of his birth is marked today by giant statues of Paul Bunyan and his Blue Ox, Babe, standing on the shoreline of Lake Bemidji.

A ‘tall tale’ is one that exaggerates, and the Paul Bunyan tales are among the tallest. Paul was the imaginary hero of the strong men who felled trees, the lumberjacks of the North Woods of America. Tales told how he used whole pine trees to comb his grizzled hair and dark beard. The griddle for his pancakes was as large as Lake Bemidji (Minnesota), which resembles Paul’s giant footprint; lumberjacks greased it by skating over it with strips of bacon strapped to their feet. And it took two acres of brush fire to heat the griddle..

Paul Bunyan liked to work with big men, mainly lumberjacks. The most famous of them all were his seven axe men. They were all called with the same name of Elmer, so when he called they all came running. Each of these men was over six feet tall sitting down and weighed over 300 pounds – believe it or not. No grindstone was large enough to grind the axes so they sharpened them by holding them against large stones rolling down hill.

Babe the Blue Ox was Paul’s best friend. According to legends Babe was found during the winter of the Blue snow, the year that it was blue with cold. He was measured forty-two ax handles and plug of tobacco between the horns; he lived in harmony with his mate Bessie, the Yaller cow. Legend has it that Babe together with Paul Bunyan had footprints were so large that they created Minnesota’s ten thousand lakes. Babe when thirsty could even drink a river dry.

The wild and humors legends of Paul Bunyan and Babe the Blue Ox may have begun with tales told around the hot stoves of lumber camps of the Northern woods in the 1800s. Some of the legends, myths and stories appeared in the newspapers as early at the 1900s; at a later date those tales have been published in different books and in varied languages. The legends of Paul Bunyan and Babe the Blue Ox continue to be presented in films, books, cartoons and other media forms.

If You Go:

Bemidji , Minnesota, home to the legend of Paul Bunyan and Babe the Blue Ox, is a charming and progressive city, the first city on the Mississippi River. Bemidji takes its name for an Ojibwe Indian word meaning “lake with cross waters” – referring to the crossing of the Mississippi River with Lake Bemidji. You can visit the statues of these two large than life legendary characters (constructed 1937) on the shores of the lake during your visit to Northern Minnesota.

Along with a visit to the site of statues of Paul Bunyan and the Babe the Blue Ox There’s plenty to do and see in and around the area of Bemidji.. Hunting, fishing, boating, snowmobiling, birding and skiing are just a few of the past times you and your family will enjoy when you visit this area of Northern Minnesota. With over 400 lakes in a 25-mile radius, the Bemidji Area also has some of the best outdoor recreation opportunities in Minnesota and the Upper Midwest. Tourist accommodations include 15 motels with a total of 561 rooms. Of special significance are Lake Bemidji and Lake Bemidji State Park for nature adventures.

For information on tourist facilities contact:
Bemidji Tourist Information Center
Bemidji Chamber of Commerce
300 Bemidji Ave. Bemidji, MN 56601
For inquiries call 218-444-3541 or 800-458-2223 or e-mail chamber@paulbunyan.net.

Another popular pastime is the Paul Bunyan Trail, one of the most popular trails in the state. Today, at 210 miles, the Paul Bunyan (Bemidji to International Falls) Trails form one of the longest and one of the most scenic. It is easy to understand the appeal of the Paul Bunyan Trail. Its 100 miles wind around the shores of 21 lakes and over 9 rivers or streams. Very little of the trail crosses open fields or immediately borders highways; most of the route snakes through gently rolling landscape covered in stately pine forests and populated by an abundance of diverse flora and fauna. Towns with good lodging and amenities are situated at comfortable 8-10 mile intervals, with state parks at both the north and south ends of the trail. The Paul Bunyan Trail intersects with several planned or proposed connecting trail routes, including a network of over 1,200 miles of snowmobile trails. For route information and maps contact Paul Bunyan Trail – Minnesota Department of Natural Resources ‘paulbunyantrail.com‘.

You can travel by car around Paul Bunyan Scenic Highway to the lakes and lands that helped give life to the Great Northwoods, and to the Legend of Paul Bunyan.- The Paul Bunyan National Scenic Byway is located on 54 miles of county roads in north Crow Wing County and into Pine River in Cass County. It is and area of breathtaking scenic beauty around lakes and streams, natural forests with nature’s wonders, historic and many more tourist attractions. It is an excellent place for a stopover for a night even for a week where you can enjoy comfortable lodging, fine restaurants. Boating, fishing, golf and swimming, even strolling around the lakes and forest are the many activities along the highway.

For further information contact:
Paul Bunyan Scenic Byway
P.O.Box 401
Pequot Lakes, MN 56472
Email info@paulbunyanscenicbyway.org.

Varied activities await you at the world of Paul Bunyan. From state parks to sporting events, you will find the activity that meets your needs, indoors or outdoors – try one of the state’s many trails to hike, bike, snowmobile or ski, rent a canoe, golf, bowl, dine on excellent cuisine, stroll in leisure , fish or just sail away on the beautiful lakes.

Minnesota Tourism
♦ www.tourminnesota.org – Minnesota Office of Tourism
♦ www.exploreminnesota.com – for information on destinations, lodging/camping, events, helpful links and sites and other activities and attractions in the state.

Notes:

1) Many believe that the tales of Paul Bunyan were first told by French Canadian loggers, who called him Paul Bonjean, moniker as “Bonyenne”. His name through the years was anglicized and the stories and legends were eventually modified and added upon from storyteller to storyteller.

2) The earliest published versions of the myth of Paul Bunyan can be traced back to James MacGilvray, an itinerant newspaper reporter who wrote the first Paul Bunyan article for the Oscoda Press in 1906 and an expanded version of the same article for the Detroit News. He is alleged to have collected stories from lumberjacks, combined them with his own embellishments, and in July 24, 1910 he published the first of the legends of Paul Bunyan with the printing of ‘The Round River Drive’.

About the author:
Norman A. Rubin is a former correspondent for the Continental News Service (USA), now retired – busy writing articles and stories for Net sites and magazines worldwide. Google the author’s name for a review of his written work.

All photos are by Norman A. Rubin.

Exploring Catalina Island, California

by Gregg LaLiberte

If you have ever wanted to visit an island off the coast of California, and Hawaii is just too far (and perhaps not in the budget), Santa Catalina Island is an ideal second choice.

Discovered in 1542 by Portuguese explorer Juan Rodgriguez Cabrillo, who named it San Salvador, it was renamed 60 years later by Spaniard Sebastian Vizcaino for Saint Catherine, and Santa Catalina it remains. It has been in private ownership several times in its history. Originally the home of the Tongva Indians, who lived off the abundant fish and seal reserves, it was occupied by a wide group of Europeans and private owners in the last several hundred years before being taken over by a succession of American entrepreneurs, all of whom had dreams of developing the island. None succeeded.

The most famous recent owner was William Wrigley, the chewing gum magnate, who bought a controlling share in the island in 1919. He brought the Chicago Cubs, the baseball team he owned, to Catalina for spring training every year from 1921 to 1951. The estate he built to overlook the sea and the harbor of Avalon is still owned by his family.

The island is now operated by the Santa Catalina Conservancy. The county of Los Angeles provides administration, including firefighters (who are barged over from the mainland when needed; the local force is voluntary), and police (which are hardly required, according to locals, because crime on the island is seldom a problem due to the lack of escape routes).

A very popular vacation spot in the summer months, Catalina is 22 miles off the coast and is accessible by three ferry systems operating from five Southern California towns: Long Beach, Dana Point, Marina del Rey, San Pedro and Newport Beach. For those in a rush to cut the travel time from 75 minutes to 20, a helicopter service leaves from Long Beach and San Pedro. If you do opt for the chopper ride, you will miss a very enjoyable trip on the ferry, which affords a great view of the Long Beach skyline as well as the Queen Mary – the ocean liner that was purchased from the British in 1967. Keep a lookout for whales and dolphins, which live in the area but don’t stay around long for photo ops. I caught a glimpse of a school of dolphins, but by the time I got my camera pointed in the right direction all I ended up with was a photo of disturbed waves.

My wife and I, her sister and a friend, booked a package deal in Avalon which included a night’s stay at the Casa Mariquita Hotel on Metropole Avenue and two ferry tickets from Long Beach. This saved us about $20 a couple over booking them separately. Note that when you’re doing your online research to make sure the hotel has a deal with a ferry company leaving from a location convenient for you; they don’t all. Long Beach is closest to Los Angeles.

Avalon, permanent population about 3,700, is the main town on the island and where most of the action is. There are taxis and golf carts to take you to your destination, but unless you’re booked at one of the more exotic hotels at the far edge of town, you can walk. It took us perhaps a half-hour to get from the docks to our hotel – and that was with plenty of sightseeing along the way. We could have done it half that time without stopping.

A note on vehicular transportation: Full-size automobiles are strictly limited, so most of the locals use golf carts, although the majority seem to run on gasoline rather than electricity — which is a bit of a contradiction to California’s reputation for green power.

There is a good selection of hotels, as befits an island almost entirely geared to tourism. Our one-night stay at the Casa Mariquita was $175 and represented the lower to mid level what you might expect to pay. It was entirely satisfactory. There is no dining room, but walking to any of the many eateries down the street just adds to the experience.

Remember that Catalina Island is mainly a spring through fall destination. If you’re brave enough to go in the winter you can find some attractive discounts. But check – not all hotels stay open.

There is the usual assortment of gift shops and restaurants on Pebbly Beach Road, the main drag which runs along the ocean front and separates the beach from the town proper. A number of side streets run up the mountainside, the first few blocks of which have stores and restaurants. Anything beyond that is housing for the locals who work in the area. (If you’re thinking Avalon would be a great place to live, bear in mind that a two-bedroom cottage will cost you in the neighborhood of a half-million bucks.)

A wide assortment of tours are available. You can see the town of Avalon, the entire island, or go on a semi-submersible for a good look at what goes on under the sea. There are several tour operators. We took one of Avalon and the surrounding area that was well worth the $22 plus tax as we learned things that we never would have by ourselves, and brought us high above the town for spectacular views of the harbour. That price also included admission to the Museum, which saved us $5.00 each.

Our tour finished off at the Casino, built in 1929 by William Wrigley and is a splendid example of art deco architecture. By far the most recognizable landmark on the island, it is a ballroom, movie theatre and museum – but a casino only in the original sense of the Italian word: a meeting place. There isn’t a slot machine to be found.

The museum was hosting an exhibit on Marilyn Monroe while we were there. The then Norma Jean spent the first year of her married life on Catalina Island while her husband, Jim Dougherty, was training for the Merchant Marine in 1943. Forensic detective work, largely based on her letters home, suggest that the newlyweds lived in an apartment on Metropole Avenue, but it can’t be proven conclusively – another twist to the Marilyn legend.

Past the Casino, past the Tuna Club (the oldest sport fishing club in North America, founded 1898), the path continues to wind along the rocky ocean shore to what might be called a “suburb” of Avalon, Descanso Beach, which seems to cater to a younger crowd than the main town with lots of swimming, snorkeling, and kayaking. There is a large restaurant (the Descanso Beach Club) and plenty of boutiques selling beach wear and souvenirs. The area is only open during the tourist season, from mid-April to mid-October.

The inland part of the island is mountainous, dry and very sparsely inhabited. A herd of 150 wild bison roam in certain parts of the interior, the result of being brought from the mainland for a Zane Grey western movie shoot in 1924. The logistics required to get them back to their original homes was deemed not worth the time or trouble, so they got to stay on Catalina. They seem to like it. Other wildlife, both native and introduced, includes deer, antelope, wild turkey and fox.

There is a series of zip lines totaling nearly 4,000 feet (1.2 km) outside of Avalon that connects one mountain peak to another and provides stunning views of the ocean. At least I am assuming so; neither I nor any member of our party felt adventurous enough to try. If you are, make a reservation. It costs $109.00, but there are discounts available.

The weather in the summer is typical Southern California: Hot and sunny, low humidity, cool breezes. The locals advised us it “gets cool at night”, but that meant a dip into the high teens Celsius (mid 60s Fahrenheit); what a northerner calls “refreshing”.

The only other town on the island, Two Harbors, is on the far west end of the island and is home to 300 or so locals. This is where Natalie Wood died in a boating accident in 1981. (The case was recently re-opened by the Los Angeles coroner’s office but re-dismissed for lack of new evidence.)

All in all, Catalina Island is a wonderful place to visit – for a weekend or longer, offering a wide variety of activities as well as a unique aspect of Southern California quite unlike any other.

Catalina Island Day Trip from Anaheim or Los Angeles with Optional Upgrades

If You Go:

♦ Catalina Island Chamber of Commerce — www.catalinachamber.com
♦ Catalina Express ferry — www.catalinaexpress.com
♦ Catalina Island Museum — www.catalinamuseum.org
♦ The Tuna Club — www.tunaclub.com
♦ Casa Mariquita Hotel — www.casamariquitahotel.com

About the author:
Born and raised in Montreal, Gregg LaLiberte is a freelance writer and photographer now living in Pickering, Ontario with his wife Gracelyn. He has traveled throughout North America, Europe and the Caribbean and looks forward to seeing much more of the world in the days to come.

All photos are by Gregg LaLiberte.

Historic Canadian Lighthouses

by Norman Rubin

Visiting and photographing lighthouses, even collecting replicas of them are popular hobbies for many enthusiasts. In some locations, lighthouses have become popular travel destinations in themselves and the buildings are maintained as tourist attractions. Canada with its long rugged shore is an excellent country for enthusiasts to visit and photograph its historic lighthouses, the national heritages of the land.

Lighthouses as we know are beacons built on towers with a system of lamps and searchlights at various dangerous coastal sites, hazardous shoals, and for a safe entry to ports. The earliest lighthouses in history were simply bonfires built on hillsides to guide ships. The most famous lighthouse in history is the Lighthouse of Alexandria in ancient Egypt at the port city of Alexandria, built in 285 B.C.. The first lighthouse on the North American continent was built at Boston Harbor in 1716.

The second-oldest lighthouse on the continent, and the first Canadian one, went into service at the French fortress of Louisbourg on Cape Breton Island in 1734. Now to our tour of the historical Canadian lighthouses under the auspices of Parks Canada, the official guardians of the national parks, the national historic sites and the national marine conservation areas of Canada.

‘Cape Spear Lighthouse’ has guided mariners approaching St. John’s safely with its beaming light. Historically recognized today and due to its age and architecture, the lighthouse has been restored to its original appearance and portrays the life of 19th century light keepers and their families. Visitors today can visit the restored lighthouse and see how a 19th-century light keeper lived and worked. At the Visitor’s Center and the Heritage shop one can view light keeping exhibits. One point to remember when visiting the site is that it is a hazardous coastline and one should keep to the marked trail to the lighthouse.

‘Mississauga Point Lighthouse’, the site of first lighthouse on the Great Lakes, a Canadian heritage site was built on Niagara-on-the-Lake, Ontario in 1804.

‘Port Clark Lighthouse’ located on lake Huron built between 1855 and 1859 is located on Lake Huron, thirty-five kilometers north of the town of Goderich played a vital role in the navigation of the Great lakes. The eighty-seven foot limestone structure is topped by a twelve-sided lantern. The light keeper’s house acts as a museum.

The ‘Fisgard Lighthouse’, the first lighthouse on the Canadian west coast, built in 1860, provides a guide for seafarers to the Royal Roads anchorage, Esquimalt harbor and its naval base, and directs the way to Victoria harbor. The Fisgard lighthouse commemorates an important symbol for the sovereignty of Canada. Visitors to lighthouse can enter the former keeper’s house, which now contains exhibits and a video station for an interesting tour. The harbor seals and the occasional sea lion frequent the waters around the site and put on an aquatic display of their natural talents.

The Bois Blanc Historic Lighthouse, constructed in 1839 played an important role in the navigation of the Detroit River. During border raids by Canadian rebel sympathizers it was strategically important for the defense of Fort Malden near the town of Amherstburg, Ontario. The Bois Blanc Island lighthouse served the navigational needs of the area until the late 1950s, when it was rendered redundant by new navigational aids. It was transferred to Parks Canada in 1961 for a tourist site. (At present the entrance to this site is unavailable due to vandalism.)

One interesting lighthouse is the ‘Lobster Cove Head Lighthouse’ built in 1897 at the entrance to Rocky Harbor and then to Rocky Harbor and the entrance of Bonne Bay, as it is still in service by Canadian Coast Guard. Yet the light keeper’s house is open as a park interpretive exhibit center detailing how people lived along this part of coast for more the than 4000 years. Original artifacts, historical documents and photographs are there to see which make the history come alive.

‘Pointe-au-Pere Lighthouse’ played an important role in safely guiding ships with its welcoming beams of light on the St. Lawrence River. The existing lighthouse, the third built on this site (1909) is the second highest in Canada. Managed together with ‘Musee de la Mer’, this historical site is a remarkable witness to the Canadian Maritime Past.

And the Port-la-Joye lighthouse – Fort Amherst, Prince Edward Island, S.S. Klondike National Historic (S.S. Keno) Site, etc.

Whether you are a lighthouse enthusiast or not, a visit to a Canadian lighthouse can offer you an insight, an interesting point of the history of Canada, its kinship to the sea and the service the lighthouses maintained in guiding ships to a safe harbor.

Notes:

1. There are literally hundreds lighthouses on Nova Scotia and Prince Edward Island alone that are highly recommend for enthusiasts for their interest and service to the shipping. www.nightcoaster.com/light/lhcanada.htm

2. Eight of ten Canadian provinces have a lighthouse, more than four hundred in all. Canadian lighthouses are set in a great variety of environments, along the rugged shoreline, entrance to harbors, in the rain forests of the Pacific coast; in the middle of a downtown park, etc.

Parks Canada National Office
25 Eddy Street, Gatineau, Quebec
Canada K1A 0M5

Email: information@pc.gc.ca – Web: www.pc.gc.ca

Editor’s note: It was recently announced that most of these historic lighthouses will be closed down.

Photo credits:

1. Fort Point Lighthouse Built 1855 – Oldest surviving lighthouse – Nova Scotia by Dennis Jarvis from Halifax, Canada / CC BY-SA
2. North Cape Lighthouse – Prince Edward Island by Share Bear~commonswiki / Public domain
3. Fisgard Lighthouse – 1860 Esquimalt Harbor, Victoria, British Columbia by Gorgo / Public domain

About the author:
Norman A. Rubin is a former correspondent for the Continental News Service (USA), now retired and busy writing articles and stories for Net sites and magazines worldwide – see ‘Google.com’ under the author’s name for a review of his written work.

The Mystery of Otut-Tun

Palenque, Mexico

by W. Ruth Kozak

Many civilizations believe in reincarnation, a return to life after death. The credibility and mystery behind this doctrine has always fascinated me, in particular on those rare occasions when I have encountered a feeling of déjà vu. I recall an unusual dream I had and the strange occurrences that followed.

I am in a small room with walls made of white stone. The room is bare of furnishings except for a narrow bed covered by the pelt of a black animal, possibly a jaguar, and heaped with brightly colored cushions. In one corner is a large urn with a brilliant turquoise glaze, the most distinctive object in the room.

I am accompanied by another woman. We are both dressed in long gauzy garments and wear flower head dresses. She indicates to me that I am a captive and she is a servant.

I look out the narrow T-shaped window of the room and see a hilly landscape. A vista of lawns and foliage border a wide avenue that connects distant pavilions with curved roofs decorated by elaborate combs. Among the gardens and terraces are scattered other white stone buildings with carved lintels over arched doorways that are shaped like open serpents’ mouths. A stairway descends from the entrance of the room and below a crowd of people is assembling. The iridescent feathers of their headdresses make them look like a flock of exotic birds; the brilliantly dyed cloth of their garments swirls in a riot of colour as dancing men whirl to the pulsating bet of drums. The crowd screams and I see four people who appear to be captives being dragged up the steep stairs of an adjoining building. The moaning wail of a conch trumpet echoes off the hills. The hubbub of excited voices and the sound of scuffling footsteps on the stairs frightens me.

Two men enter the room. Both appear to be noblemen. They are dressed in garments of fine cotton cloth resplendent with painted and woven patterns. One is a full head taller than his companion. He is a handsome man with a beautiful sculpted face, high cheek-bones and a high-bridged nose. The short kilt he wears displays his bronze-skinned muscular body. He is adorned with exquisite jewelry, bracelets and rings of silver set with precious stones: turquoise, jade, lapis lazuli and pearls. Over his shoulders is draped a cape of brightly embroidered cloth and he wears a fabulous headdress of emerald-coloured plumes.

The men are conversing hushed, troubled voices in a language I do not understand. The tall, younger man joins me by the window. He looks down at the scene below. The mood of the crowd has intensified and the plaza resounds with the throbbing of drums and the piercing shrill of flutes.

He gestures “trouble” and stands in front of me, placing his hands on my shoulders. His dark eyes penetrate me with their intenseness. A sharp pang of grief cuts through me. He stands quietly allowing me a moment of reflection. I realize then that, although I am his captive, I am also his lover.

His eyes are sad and speak of tragedy. “You must go. I will help you escape…” He speaks his own language but makes me understand. He smiles to reassure me and embraces me. I smell the delicate fragrance of the perfumed oils he uses to anoint his body. “You must leave here,” he says. I protest. I do not want to leave him.

The other man who is waiting near the rear doorway with the woman servant interrupts, addressing his friend by name: “Cho’oc…Cho’oc-B’alam!” He speaks urgently in that strange langue of clucking sounds which I can not understand. Cho’oc pushes me toward the door. “You must go quickly…”

It is then that I wake from my sleep, but the dream, so vivid and real haunted me. Who was the man, Cho-oc Buhlum? Where was that place? Why was he sending me away?

It wasn’t until nearly a year later in a place thousands of miles away in south-eastern Mexico that I would find some of the answers. I was traveling with two friends by van from the Mexican Caribbean coast of the Yucatan to the humid jungle area of the Chiapas, heading for the archaeological site of Palenque. We planned to spend the day exploring the ancient Mayan ruins. As I entered the site I was awed by what I saw. A mysterious jade-colored aura shimmers over the entire area where temples, palaces and pyramids with roof ornaments carved in stone preside magnificently over the gloomy, mysterious rain forest that surrounds it. It is easy to imagine every building in its perfection with the terraces and gardens that gave Palenque the reputation of having been one of the most beautiful of the ancient Mayan cities.

Known as a garden city of the Maya, Palenque was probably built some time after the fourth century AD when the Mayans developed a technique of constructing buildings of stone. Lost in the dense tropical forest, when it was rediscovered over 150 years ago, the jungle was set on fire in order to get at the collapsing buildings. Many of the priceless stucco reliefs crumbled and fell away. What remains is enclosed by a great green wall of jungle.

The Spanish named it “Palenque” which means “Palisade City”. Chol, a Mayan dialect still spoken by the natives translate the name as “Otot’(house) and “tun” (a stone) Otot-tun: Houses of Stone.

I wandered around the site from one building to another. The stone houses are abandoned now, these buildings and temples once occupied by venerable priests and Mayan nobility. The Grand Palace stands on a platform close to the middle of the city. The pyramids and temples group around it. My footsteps echo in the empty chambers. Water drips from the ceilings of dark passageways leading to underground galleries. The perfection of the architecture in Palenque is enhanced by the profusion of stucco reliefs found on the walls, cornices and pilasters of the palace. They rank among the finest works of Mayan art. It is dominated by a four-storied square tower known as the Observatory. Sculptures, burial chambers, inner courts and sandstone stelae flank the stairways and terraces. Across from it, the Sun Temple with its pierced roof comb, faces directly into the rising sun. I recalled seeing a building like this somewhere before: a vista of lawns and foliage bordering a wide avenue connecting distant pavilions that had curved roofs decorated with elaborate combs…

I walked from temple to temple. In each of those cool, damp sanctuaries, the spirits of former inhabitants whispered, waiting for recognition. The air was humid, carrying the fragrance of decaying and luxuriant growth and the scent of tropical flowers. Birds twittered gaily and fluttered about the roof-combs where they nested, the only inhabitants now.

The Temple of Inscriptions dominates the scene, named this because of the three existing panels in the interior which bear the Inscriptions of Mayan laws. It is perched atop a massive pyramid. Deep inside the bowel of this pyramid is concealed the burial chamber of a Mayan priest-king, Pacal the Great.

I ascended the high steps to the top and sat to rest, contemplating the magnificence of the vista below, the lush landscape and surrounding monuments that lay scattered about the area of the temple-city. I imagined how it had been long ago when young men, chosen by the priests to be offered as sacrifices, climbed those steep steps, stopping on each platform to pipe a tune on his clay flute, then breaking the flute on the step as a symbolic gesture to the gods. I visualize people gathered in the plaza below, strange, beautiful people decked out in fantastic clothing covered with plumes of tropical birds.

At that moment the dream came back clearly to me. It was as though the missing pieces of a puzzle had been found and the picture became whole. I knew instinctively this was the place in my dream. I had been there before. And I knew that somewhere, among the surrounding temples, I would find the little room and perhaps the answer to the questions that had haunted me for so long.

Temple XII is a small stone house next to the huge pyramid of the Temple of Inscriptions. I had overlooked it when I first began to explore the site, because it is dominated by the massive structure of the pyramid and is set back among the trees. I made my way cautiously through the weeds and over the piles of stones, all that is left of a ruined terrace and crumbling stairway. As I entered the little room, a chill ran through me. I felt light-headed and my heart throbbed with excitement. In the dream, I entered the room through a small garden terrace. The rear wall of the structure was now partially crumbled and the terrace overgrown with vegetation and shattered mortar. The chamber ws much smaller than I remembered, yet I knew it was the same one. I remembered everything that had been in that room: a narrow bed covered by a jaguar pelt, a large urn with a brilliant turquoise glaze, the handsome dark-skinned man.

As I stood by the narrow T-shaped window and gazed out over the scene below, a sharp pang of remembered grief cut through my reverie. I was looking back into the past, imagining every building in its perfection with its terraces and painted ornaments carved in stone, a magnificent, awesome city with gardens of fragrant flowers and paved avenues. I summoned the strange foreign people of my dream who I imagined were gathered in the plaza below the steps. What had happened that long-ago day in Palenque? Who was Cho’oc B’alam, whose name means “The Young Jaguar”? Why had he wanted me to escape from there?

According to the guide-book, in another small temple – Temple XVIII – located behind Temple XII, excavators found a crypt containing the bodies of a young prince-priest and a girl who had been buried with him. Driven by insatiable curiosity, I decided to explore this site.

Dense underbrush had overgrown the path. I attempted to climb over the tangle of vines and foliage but it was impossible to locate the trail. I remembered that Palenque has also been called “Na-Chan”, City of Snakes, so I decided to turn back. But just then something caught my eye: a brilliant iridescent green feather. I remembered then, Cho-oc had worn a fabulous head-dress of emerald-coloured plumes.. Was this an omen? An answer to my questions? I turned back, unable to go any farther. The jungle would keep its secrets.

Later, I studied the photographs taken in Palenque, hoping to discover additional clues. A photo of Temple XII shows a close-up of the stucco relief carved at the base of the pillar at the front entrance. It is a carving of one of the Mayan death gods – a skull, outlined with decorative scrolls, after all these years unmarred by time. Strangely, there appears beside the pillar a mysterious vertical aura of purple light. The skull grins cryptically, keeping its secret and the secrets of the dead who still haunt the little stone house of Otut-tun.

Palenque Archaelogical Site Tour and Misol-Ha Waterfall from Villahermosa

If You Go:

Palenque Ruins, Chiapas

Mayan Ruins, Palenque

About the author:
Ruth is a historical fiction and travel writer. She had never forgotten the strange dream or her fascinating visit to Palenque. You can read more of Ruth’s published stories on her website at www.ruthkozak.com.

Photo credits:
Palenque by Jan Harenburg / CC BY
All other photos by W. Ruth Kozak