I had long heard about the otherworldly scenery that the Chiapas region boasted. All that hearsay nor all of my Google Image searches could prepare me for the jaw-dropping beauty of Sumidero Canyon. It reminded me of my fjord tour through Norway, or the dramatic Gocta Falls in Peru’s Amazonas region. It gave me shades of New Zealand, and the Lord of the Rings soundtrack appropriately played in my head as the boat took us under a towering, but gentle waterfall.
It was awe-inspiring, and for $18, probably one of the best damn things you can do for the price of a cheap meal in NYC. The pictures on Google Images don’t do this canyon any justice whatsoever. Although I’d heard amazing things about Chiapas, I was fully prepared to be underwhelmed, or at best, whelmed.
The hour-long bus ride from San Cristobal had taken the wind out of my sails. I’d been on an antisocial binge where even hearing people speak has become annoying. I was using my brown skin as a shield from having to speak to the other American on the tour. With my face mask on, I could be from wherever I wanted to be. For now, my headphones were on and if anyone tried speaking to me, no hablo Ingles.
The hot mugginess of our port of embarkation was only making me groggier and grumpier. We sat around waiting for the boat for around 30 minutes, and I was starting to wonder if it would even be worth the negligible cost of $18. Finally, we got thrown our neon yellow life jackets and got ushered onto the boat.
Sitting in the second row, the sun was beating down on me and I was already miserable. Thankfully, the boat started moving and the wind started to wake me up. For the first 15 or so minutes of the ride, I was very whelmed. It was exactly what I had expected, a boat ride on a river flanked between two tall land formations. We saw a white crocodile and some spider monkeys, and those were the highlights of the day so far.
And then, bam.
Although I was dressed for a hot, sunny day, I had never been so excited to see clouds in my life. The landscapes stayed the same, but the moody, gloomy arrival of the clouds transformed the experience entirely. All of a sudden, I was in Jurassic Park, Middle Earth, and Iceland all at once. Being on a boat slowly moving through the fog was an ethereal experience. We passed the highest point of the canyon, towering at around 1,000 meters above where the boat was situated on the river. Never had I felt so small, and yet, you couldn’t even see the top of the canyon. The clouds blanketed it so perfectly. It could have been as tall as my imagination allowed.
Tarzan could have jumped out of the dense jungle at any moment. They never did, because I am Tarzan obviously, and I was already on the boat. We continued through the surreal landscapes, flanked by the rocky behemoths of Sumidero Canyon. The boat entered a little crevasse where an altar had been set up, and the gray, stone walls of the canyon were drenched in pink colors. Being at the front of the boat, I could hardly make out what the guide had to say about what turned the stones pink. But hey, I like a little mystery.
We continued to speed through the canyon as the weather got chillier and the sun disappeared entirely behind the dense clouds. Eventually, we stumbled upon one of the most unique waterfalls I’d ever seen. The water was flowing in a way that had eroded the rocks into the shape of a pine tree. I have no idea how tall these waterfalls actually were, but from a distance, the rock erosion and lush greenery had made this stretch of canyon seem like a Christmas tree.
Seriously, where the fuck am I?
Eventually, all good things have to come to an end. We wrapped up the tour the same way all tours in Latin America end, with people trying to sell us stuff and the tour guide asking for the tip. He said we’d have to swim back if we didn’t tip him, so I let out a slight chuckle and threw 10 pesos into the hat. The boat turned around and you could tell that the guide stopped giving a fuck now that he’d gotten his tips. We zoomed through the canyon at hyper speeds and I chucked my camera into my bag and held onto the seat in front of me for dear life.
We finished the two-hour boat ride and set off for a small town called Chiapa de Corzo. It felt like another place out of time. The architecture seemed more North African than the Spanish colonial architecture you’d expect from Mexico. It was a beautiful stop, and I drowned myself in some amazing tacos to cap off a perfect day.
