La Tovara, Mexico

       La Tovara lies in mangrove wetlands near the fishing village of San Blas, Mexico -- a place of mystery as well as a natural wonderland. It is home to huge iguanas, crocodiles, snakes, snapping turtles, fish and flocks of tall wading birds and other water foul.
       The only way in our out of La Tovara is by boat. Anyone who tried to walk through the mangroves would instantly sink into deep mud that behaves like quicksand. This is the infamous "green hell" which is also a slice of heaven for those who come prepared.
       In the early morning and late afternoon mosquitos and jejenes (tiny biting sand flies) are a nuisance. At mid-day the insects are scarce, but the heat is oppressive. Take your pick of discomforts, but only a fool would visit La Tovara at night when spirits of the past roam the mangrove swamps.
       Long before the Aztec empire, Olmec, Mixtec and Toltec people lived here. These cultures vanished into the mists of prehistory, leaving few artifacts behind.
       My first trip started at the bridge in San Blas. I was the only passenger and the old man who operated the boat complained of having Moctezuma's revenge, a very unpleasant malady caused by impure drinking water. I had just recovered from a dose myself and we commiserated in a combination of bad English and bad Spanish on the first leg of our journey.
       The canal water was tea or coffee colored from tannic acid leached out of leaves and other vegetation. As we rounded each bend, an explosion of colorful flapping wings greeted us when we startled large birds roosting in tree limbs. A three-foot orange iguana on one stretch of canal bank paid no attention to us at all. The old Mexican said the animal was a male judging from his color. He called iguanas "tree chickens" in Spanish because they supposedly tasted like chicken when cooked. I had heard the same story about rattlesnake meat.
        At one point the boat engine propeller struck a rock underwater and broke off one blade. The operator cursed a blue streak in Spanish. Immediately I had visions of being stranded overnight in green hell, sucked bloodless by a billion mosquitos. Fortunately, the old man had brought a spare propeller.
       At the spring-fed source pool the water suddenly became crystal clear. A few tourists in bathing suits sunned themselves stretched out on a huge boulder above the pool. The old man swung the boat around to a narrow floating dock and I noticed a tiny palapa (thatched-roof) hut on the hillside. The proprietor had a zinc tub full of iced Pacifico beer in bottles. I paid for one and drank it in a few swallows to cool off. My shirt was soaked through with sweat and I peeled off my walking shorts to the swim trunks I wore beneath them.
       When the boat operator said I could stay as long as I wished, I had another beer before I strapped on my snorkeling mask and jumped into the pool. It was refreshingly cool and I could see at least 50 feet through the crystalline pale blue water. I swam around the edges of the pool looking for creatures in the submerged mangrove roots and flotsam. I saw a large snapping turtle, a two-foot water snake and lots of fish.
       When I climbed out of the water an hour or so later, the boat operator grinned at me and mentioned crocodiles. He said the larges ones had all been killed, but small ones were often seen in the pool. I tried my best impersonation of a macho expression and told him I wasn't afraid of small crocodiles. He roared with laughter and said something in rapid-fire Spanish to the beer man, who shook his head in dismay. That is when I realized I was the only person who had gone into the water the entire time. The other tourists were still safely perched on the boulder.
       On the return trip the boat operator and I seldom spoke. As I sipped a beer and listened to the drone of the engine, I fell into a hypnotic trance watching the scenery. It seemed like we were passing through an eerie place of enchantment frozen in the eternal here and now. For the first time in my life I experienced the sensation of existing totally in the moment and I decided instantly that La Tovara was my favorite spot in Mexico.
       Years later I was stunned to see La Tovara in the 1948 Orson Welles film "The Lady From Shanghai." I couldn't believe that Welles knew about such a remote place long before there were any roads into the area.

 
OLD MOVIE SET AT LA TOVARA