Mexico.

Long a bastion of warmth and relaxation for cold and cranky Canucks looking for respite from their long, dark winters; golden, sandy beaches drawing thousands of Canadians to frolic in azure waters each and every year. These picturesque, all-inclusive, booze-soaked destinations fill many a Facebook feed in the winter months and are how most people visiting Mexico from here will likely experience it.

But this is not my Mexico.

No, I prefer the semi-desert scrublands of central Mexico, specifically the state and city of Queretaro. An area where a vast, arid landscape plays host to a variety of microbiomes, charismatic trees, geological features and birdlife, where modernity meets antiquity and friendship and family take on a new meaning.

I first visited Mexico in another life entirely, way back in 2004 when I attended the Encuentros Star Wars convention in Mexico City. Back then I was actively involved in the global Star Wars collecting community, working for a website known as Rebelscum and running my own site dedicated to Star Wars and other nerdy tattoos. There I met Luis Villagomez, “my brother from another mother” and “mi hermano Mexicano;” a tattoo artist and fellow collector who would go on to become one of my closest friends and someone who I would spend a great deal of time traveling with through North and Central America. In fact, we’re so close, Luis even named his second son after me, which was a huge honour.

Over the years, I visited Luis a handful of times in his hometown of Queretaro, exploring the many amazing places the surrounding areas have to offer such as el Cerrito, Pena de Bernal and Real de Catorce. All of this was long before I became a photographer in 2015. In fact, the last time I visited Queretaro was way back in 2011, a prelude to Mega-con, the Guatemalan Star Wars gathering, and though we had many adventures together through the US and Canada after that, Luis and I hadn’t seen one another since his visit here in 2018, well before the pandemic forced us all through a state of quantum flux to a time where time seems to have no meaning at all anymore.

All of this is to say: it was high time I visited my friend!

Now, to be clear, this trip was a vacation first and foremost. Like my trip to California last December, this was not a photography trip, per se, but it was a trip where photography would happen, and that’s what I’ll be focusing on for this blog. If you’d like to skip the story (you shouldn’t!) and just check out my selects from the trip, you can do so by visiting this link.

My first two days in Queretaro were spent reconnecting with Luis and his partner Karla, enjoying great food, checking out Luis’ incredible collection, visiting his tattoo and collectibles shops, making new friends and doing some birding around the neighbourhood where Luis built his gorgeous new home (more on the birding later).

(Click on thumbs to view in full)

But it was days three through six where Luis and Karla had something truly special planned for me…a photography and sightseeing adventure in Sierra Gorda, a biosphere preserve where the semi-arid desert transitions to rising mountains, deep valleys and high-altitude forests connected by twisting, winding roads and small historical communities. This is an area seemingly underphotographed by the world’s great landscape photographers; one where I had zero expectations and no real foreknowledge of what we’d be doing and seeing. A place where I could lose myself in the landscape and conditions and let my creativity come to life.

Sierra Gorda: Day One

Up and at ‘em! 630am came fast and we were wheel’s up at 8am for the 3 hour drive ahead. The tunes and conversation flowed freely and our journey seemed to go by quickly as we went through many different biomes. The desert and high desert eventually gave way to the forests of the Sierras as the road twisted and turned as we gained elevation. At times we got stuck behind big trucks and slow cars but we soon got to our meeting place, a cool cabin/restaurant called Montana’s, where we connected with our guide Marcelo Benitez, who Luis had worked with before. In the days before we left, the two had been planning out an itinerary for us but had largely kept me in the dark. All I knew was that our first location was being kept secret and that I’d need to bring dry clothes along for the day.

After a killer brunch, we headed to the big surprise location, driving deep into the valley, through a very small, rural community and parked along the edge of the roadway. Marcelo led us down a path he said the locals will often use to walk to town (12km one way) but we weren’t going that far. After a kilometer or so, we deviated down an overgrown sidepath which he cleared with his machete. We descended further into the jungle, crossed a dry riverbed and arrived at our destination – a cave!

I had never been to a cave before and stepping inside was like stepping into another world. It was incredible. Wide and open at the start, it eventually got narrower, though still quite tall and vast and as we got deeper, the interior formations we illuminated with our headlamps got more and more interesting the further along we went. We made it to a water crossing and waterfall and from here the walk got wetter and wetter. Bear in mind we were in our street shoes! We all scrambled higher, up slippery rocks and through tight squeezes before finally arriving at a naturally made, calcium “altar,” of sorts, which served as a symbolic end of the cave and our journey. There we turned off all our lights and sat quietly in the pitch black, 1.5km from the entrance and 500m below the top of the mountain, surrounded only by the sound of water flowing somewhere nearby. Darkness, true, real darkness, is something most of us will never experience. It’s simultaneously disorienting and peaceful; humbling and terrifying.

When we turned our lights back on, I asked Marcelo to use his light to illuminate the side of the “altar” top so I could photograph the complex calcium patterns that had been deposited over the decades; patterns resembling the face of a baboon, vulture and other shapes and textures. As it turns out, I MAY have been the first person ever to photograph this, which was a pretty cool feeling in a world where everything has been photographed to death. I wiped out hard trying to get some other photos before we headed back to the entrance, taking our time to pick up garbage along the way and stopping briefly to try to photograph the waterfall and a colony of vampire bats!

After a few hours inside the cave, we finally made it out. Sweaty, soaking wet, filthy and full of joy. We hiked back up to the main trail where I noticed some beautiful trees bathed in glancing side light across the canyon. Pulling out the long lens, I paused to photograph them, soaking in the waning light and sounds of the jungle.

We got back to the car, changed and headed to Jalpan where we had sugar cane juice, questionable street food (a vegetarian nightmare where the chef just used his hands to grab everything from raw meat to fresh veggies for every order, cross contamination be damned). It was one of those moments where I just had to pretend I wasn’t seeing what I was seeing.

After dinner, I was in for another very special treat. Marcelo had arranged for us to meet up with Roberto Pedraza Ruiz, a local conservationist and photographer whose incredible work has helped protect and share the beauty of the Sierras with the world through many renowned international publications. Previous to my trip, I had read about Roberto via a feature that CNN did on him that showcased his photography and discussed how he’s carrying on the legacy of his parents who fought to create the protections currently in place for the biosphere. While my time chatting with Roberto was short, I was tremendously grateful he took the time to come and say hello. Hopefully I’ll be able to connect and explore more with him on future visits.

Sleepy and happy, we headed back to Montana’s with Marcelo where we picked up our car, drove to our beautiful little cabin and settled in for the night. Turns out, we had a very early start ahead of us.

Sierra Gorda: Day Two

Up at 330am, well well well before the ass crack of dawn, to go to Mirador Cuatro Palos. As all of the planning was done the previous day between Marcelo and Luis, in Spanish, I had no idea what we were getting ourselves into and why we had to be up so early. Sunrise wasn’t until 720am. I was even more confused when they told me the road was only 30 mins away, originally thinking that this location was maybe 2-3 hours away, hence the early start.

Marcelo promptly picked us up at 4am and as we got closer to the entrance road, I started to understand why we had to be there so early. Van load upon van load upon van load, upon bus load of touristas heading to the same spot. Some from as far away as Mexico City and Guadalajara, having left those places at 11pm the night before. Turns out this location is like the Moraine Lake of Mexico and we were going there for sunrise on the last Saturday of school break. Gulp! On days like this you get to enjoy the view with 600 of your closest friends, as that’s the max number of people they let in for sunrise. Zabriskie Point and Mesa Arch, eat your heart out.

Had I known this was what we’d be encountering, I never would have made the suggestion.

It was still very dark by the time we arrived and parked. We stopped for hot tea, rice milk, bread and tamales, accompanied by the cutest street dogs ever, before joining the throngs and making our way up to the viewpoint. Not too far along the trail, Marcelo stopped us and pointed out a great photo spot, far from the mobs ahead.

The moon was high and illuminating the fog filled scene below. Stars faintly shone through and I started a timelapse to catch what I could before it got too light. Once it did, I started a new one. We never did see the sun crack the horizon as thick, thick clouds blanketed the area. And this remained the theme for the day.

Undeterred I ran around in minimalist heaven, photographing trees and tiny flowers until it was time to go, which couldn’t have come soon enough for poor Luis and Karla who were freezing and half asleep while I engaged in typical photographer nonsense.

When we reached the highway again, we stopped for a wee and Marcelo offered us a chance to go up another mountain to 3100m, 600m higher than Mirador Cuatro Palos’ elevation of 2500m, hoping to break the cloud ceiling. We wound our way up a bumpy road, not that dissimilar to our forestry trunk roads, lacking both straightness and smoothness, but the fog seemed to get thicker as we went up. I made them stop so I could photograph the charismatic trees in the thick fog and I found myself in a fogtographer’s playground (see what I did there). I was having a blast but knew I had to keep it a little shorter than I would have liked. We arrived at our destination; a private farm sitting on top of the mountain. The views can be spectacular here but the fog remained ever thick, obstructing our view. And then it started pouring rain.

The family who lived on the farm invited us into their shack for shelter. There they had a fire going and hot coffee and tea and chocolate wafers ready for us. Such a kind thing to do for total strangers. I sat and listened to everyone speaking in Spanish, understanding nothing but feeling more connected to these people and myself than I ever do at home. I photographed their old pup, Lyra, in beautiful Rembrandt light and shared photos of the northern lights with our hosts. Feeling braver than usual and inspired by the light I saw on Lyra, I asked Luis if I could take his portrait, a style of photography I just don’t do. He agreed and I used it as a springboard to offer photos of our hosts as a thank you for their hospitality. As I started taking photos my battery died. Of course. So I grabbed the other that nearly died the day before, hoping I could get some juice from it. Two bars! I shot sparingly knowing there was still another location to go but with enough efficiency to knock out two portraits and a family photo of everyone.

Once we finished our tea and photos, we headed out for the next spot – Cascada El Chuveje.

It was another long drive back down the mountain road and equally long on the twisting, turning highway. I may have dozed off a little, as did Karla, while Luis and Marcelo chatted away. We soon arrived at the waterfall where we all enjoyed a wonderful lunch at the outdoor restaurant. I had cactus and mushroom gorditas and they were fantastic.

We made our way to the waterfall, and, after a quick detour along the wrong path, caught back up with Marcelo. The path to the falls was lovely; lush green rainforest with a hint of fall colour remaining on the trail. This area is a very popular Instagram spot and we spotted many influencers influencing along the way before making it to the big waterfall, where a huge rock is perfectly situated for the ultimate waterfall profile pic.

There’s a holding pen and warden present who restricts the amount of people and time they can spend at the selfie rock, which is actually amazing to see. Marcelo arranged for me to have a little more time to shoot the falls so long as I wasn’t near the popular pedestal. But still, my time wasn’t long as I was fighting both my short window and a battery in redline. When it comes to waterfalls, I typically like to slow down, explore and find a killer comp after taking a few of the obvious shots. I rushed as quickly as I could, trying to “see” the landscape in front of me in a reasonably artistic way. Thankfully I pulled off a couple of nice shots amongst the bunch.

Once I wrapped at the falls we took another brief stop for me to photograph the frogs that are unique to this area. My battery was about to die at any moment so I hurriedly swapped to my Nikkor Z 105mm macro lens, dialled in some settings and set about to find some frogs. With Marcelo’s extra eyes, we found a few and I managed to fire off a couple shots of a smaller green one riding a larger red one’s back before the camera ultimately decided to call it a day.

Then we called it a day too.

We walked back to the car, packed up and drove back to our little cabin where we sadly parted ways with Marcelo. I’m so grateful to him for showing us such an incredible time over the two days we had with him and for Luis for making this all happen. If you’re ever in the area, I highly recommend connecting with Marcelo to guide you. Through his eyes and love of the Sierras, I saw things I never expected and had a truly wonderful experience.

Everyone was pretty much ready to crash out as soon as we walked through the door. I slapped a battery in the charger and we all huddled under a blanket for a while as it was absolutely freezing inside after the cold and rainy day. Alas, foggy trees in the far off distance beckoned and I grabbed the battery off the charger to snap a few foggy frames. While on the balcony a small, vibrant songbird landed nearby and I was able to fire off a few rapid frames I was really happy with. Merlin confirmed it was a Townsend’s warbler which winters in Mexico and migrates north to BC for breeding in the spring.

Everyone turned in by 630pm, exhausted from our 330am wake up call. I remained awake for a while yet composing my journal entries, grateful for these days. I went to bed with empty batteries and a full heart.

Sierra Gorda: Day Three

The cold front that had moved in the day before remained in place overnight and temps dropped to around freezing. When we awoke the following morning, we could see our breath inside the cabin. None of us were particularly motivated to crawl out from our respective covers to start packing up for the drive home. But alas, that time eventually came and we did just that. I took a little wander to photograph some of the birds I could see and before I knew it, we were back on the road (well, not before I made Luis suddenly stop a few times when brightly coloured birds flew past us!).

We made our way down the mountains, back to the scrublands and warmth of the lower elevations, stopping from time to time to take in the incredible views. As we got closer to Queretaro the towering monolith of Pena de Bernal rose in the distance. Here we stopped for lunch (mmmm more mouthwatering cactus and mushroom gorditas!) and a stroll through the popular part of town. Pena de Bernal is a very busy tourist destination amongst the locals and this section is lively indeed, though this dog in a poncho might lead you to think otherwise.

My remaining days in Queretaro were spent enjoying the company of Luis, Karla, Shane and the many new friends they introduced me to. I’d begin and end my days with walks around the neighbourhood, photographing birds who were both new and familiar to me, as many of our western Canadian songbirds migrate south to this part of Mexico. Hummingbirds became my obsession and I’d lose myself for hours on end trying to photograph the many species that call Queretaro home.

Indeed, by the end of my trip, Queretaro truly felt like my home as well. I’m so grateful to Luis for his incredible hospitality and for the opportunity to connect with Karla and Shane. I can’t wait to go back.

In the meantime, please click the link below to check out my feature gallery showcasing the incredible landscapes and birds I saw on my journey through the Sierra Gorda biosphere and the scrublands of Queretaro:

Sierra Gorda and Queretaro: Photo Gallery

(Additional BTS photos in this blog have been contributed by Marcelo Benitez, Luis Villagomez, and Karla Rico)