Boat pPage 5 of 5 - Trans-Americas Journey

It’s wet in the Huasteca region of central Mexico, a geographic area that creeps into parts of four states (Veracruz, Tamaulipas, San Luis Potosí, and Hidalgo). Even when the rest of the country is dry it rains here, which explains why the Huasteca is lousy with waterfalls.

There are many cascades and many swimming holes to choose from at Cascada Tamasopo.

The first waterfall we visit is Cascada Tamasopo where the blue-green water and calcified pools instantly remind us of Havasu Falls in Arizona, minus the long, dusty, hot walk to get there.

There are many cascades and many swimming holes to choose from at Cascada Tamasopo.

Cascada Tamasopo is more like a network of waterfalls and swimming holes (most of them thoughtfully marked with depth signs) than one single cascade and we were disappointed that the weather was still a bit too chilly to get wet.

The Pago Pago waterfall on the Rio Micos.

The Pago Pago waterfall on the Micos River is part of a collection of waterfalls called Cascadas de Micos. Short, wide, gentle Pago Pago and it’s meandering pools and streams is a very family-friendly waterfall area with wooden rowboats, life vests and ample shaded tables.

Cascada Minas Vieja is a bit out of the way but it rewards with both drama and serenity.

It required a bit of a drive through seemingly endless sugar cane fields and past seemingly endless trucks hauling the cut cane out, but Cascada Minas Vieja didn’t disappoint. A short walk down to the falls revealed an even more Havasu-like water system than Tamasopo: bluer water, more cascading pools, plenty of campsite-ready banks.

Cascada Minas Vieja is a bit out of the way but it rewards with both drama and serenity.

All the waterfalls we visited in the Huaseteca are drive-ups except for the biggest one in the region and the largest waterfall in the whole state of San Luis Potosi: 344′ high Cascada de Tamul.

It actually took us two tries to get to Tamul. Armed with vague and confusing information and lots of unanswered questions (this road or that road? can you actually drive to the falls or do you have to take a boat?), we failed to reach Cascada Tamul on our first attempt.

Happily, we passed through the area again, giving us a second chance to get it right. This time we found the right road and we determined that while there may be a way to drive and/or hike to the top of Tamul, the most direct and easily organized way to see it is by boat which you will most certainly be paddling. Upstream.

Reaching Cascada de Tamul requires more than mere paddling.

After a bit of haggling (we got the price down from 400 pesos to 300 pesos) we headed out with a guide, three paddles and three life jackets. The river was beautiful and the current isn’t too stiff until we start getting closer to the power of this massive waterfall and a series of small rapids which require us to get out and hike on the bank so our guide can pull the empty boat upstream until we get past the rapids. It’s hard to imagine how hard this upstream journey would be in July and August when the Huasteca gets even more rain than normal causing water levels and water volume to rise.

Karen takes a break as we paddle upstream toward Cascada de Tamul.

Our first glimpse of the 350' tall Cascada de Tamul.

Tamul is a very wide, very high, very powerful waterfall and our boat wasn’t able to go right to the face of it. The local guides take you as far as a huge boulder in the middle of the river and tie up there while passengers get out and sit on the rock to safely view the cascade. And it’s all downstream from there!

Cascada de Tamul, the largest waterfall in San Luis Potosi state.

We didn’t find out until too late that there’s a spot that’s perfect for camping (flat, sandy, shaded, all your own) just a few steps from Cuevas del Agua, a beautiful water-filled cave just downstream from the Tamul waterfall.

Here are some other Tamul tips: haggle; wear a swimsuit (paddling upstream is sweaty work and you’ll want to cool off in the river); don’t arrive at the village later than 3–this is a 2. 5 hour trip at best and no one wants to get back in the dark; avoid visiting during Mexican holidays when the area gets packed.

Cueva del Agua near Cascada de Tamul is a great swiming hole with beautiful sapphire-blue water and a great bat house.

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San Blas, on the Nayarit coast between Mazatlan and Puerto Vallarta, sits on an almost-imperceptibly high spot amidst a sprawling, swampy, jungly mangrove. This means many things, both good and bad. Mosquitoes and other mercilessly pesky and blood-thirsty insects abound, for example. It also means that the sleepy town’s secluded, wide, white beaches aren’t the only watery thrill to be had.

For around 360 pesos (about $25) for four people one of the captains for hire who loiter in a median in the road as you enter town will take you on a three hour cruise up the Estuary San Cristobal through the federally protected mangroves and jungles and waterways that lead to the La Tovara fresh water spring (add about an hour and another 80 pesos if you want to continue past the spring to a crocodile farm where the animals are bred and released).

Our prow pushed silently through still water as we floated through the jungle toward La Tovara Springs in San Blas, Mexico.

A juvenile osprey eyed us as we passed under it during our float through the jungle and mangroves.

After waiting around for over an hour hoping two other travelers would show up to share the cost of the boat, we finally gave up and convinced a captain to take just the two of us for 300 pesos. The moment we stepped into the small, open, brightly painted wooden boat and started to move we relaxed thanks to a shockingly quite and non-stinky motor, a languid pace and plenty of eye candy. All told we saw dozens of birds, at least a dozen crocs and just two other boats.

You can get the trip for less if you walk or drive across a bridge or go even further out of town moving closer to the springs itself. However, if you ask us, the most serene and “mangrovey” sections of the trip occur in the first 20 minutes so cutting out that stretch to save a few pesos doesn’t make sense, even to us.

This small crocodile, one of many toothy terrors we saw during our boat trip, didn't budge from his sunny log as we floated by.

An egret stood motionless above the glassy water looking for the almost imperceptible movement of lunch below the surface.

Our ultimate destination was the La Tovara fresh water spring where the boat docked and we got out to gawk at the amazingly crystal clear water (this spring actually feeds the town of San Blas) and its population of happy fish. There’s a restaurant here, shady tables and you can even swim in the natural pool that’s been discreetly built up at the mouth of the spring. Be warned, however: at least one swimmer has been attached by a croc here and though there’s now a big weighted chain link fence separating the large natural pool at the mouth of the spring from the river itself we decided against taking a dip.

The crystal-clear waters of the La Tovara Spring.

This bad boy was the largest crocodile we saw and more than big enough to satisfy any Wild Kingdom dreams.

A black Iguana warming up.

San Blas’ other (absolutely unprovable) claim to fame is as the birthplace of banana bread. All over town bakeries swear they invented the stuff and you can hardly turn a corner without bumping into a chance to buy a slice or loaf of pan de platano. We sucumbed at a bakery called Juan Bananas. Why there? No idea, but the bread WAS tasy and the label that came on it can’t be beat: it’s a crude line drawing of a palm tree and a banana tree with a hammock strung between them in which a sated customer (one supposes) slumbers as gargantuan mosquitoes swarm about. We told you there were epic bugs here…