I had a very full day, so let me cut to the quick: After renting a car at the airport I left the seashore and headed for the center of the country, I climbed the mountain front of the central altiplano using an excellent toll highway, here and there recognizing some of the units from the Los Humeros Volcanic Center, which was the subject of my doctoral research. This large volcanic center started growing 3 million years ago, and 0.5 million years ago had a paroxysmal eruption that formed the rhyolitic Xaltipan Ignimbrite, lobes of which reached as far as Xalapa and the coastal plain of Veracruz. Two other very large rhyolitic eruptions took place 0.25 and 0.1 million years ago, after which the volcanism changed to voluminous basaltic andesite lava flows, and ended, barely 30,000 years ago with a last gasp of olivine basalts. It is a short epitaph, but this history chronicles the evolution, and eventual demise, of a magma chamber that at its prime had a large volume of rhyolitic magma at the top, and a “basement” of basaltic andesite magma, kept hot by periodic injections of basaltic magma.
I did this work 40 years ago as part of a geothermal exploration team, and thought I would remember well enough the place that I had mapped in detail. To begin with, however, as I approached I saw the mass of the volcanic massif and thought “Wow, it is much larger than I remembered!” I certainly could remember the key outcrops but, with a more experienced eye, I thought I could now identify new outcrops and started doubting whether I had included them in the original geologic map. The roads are now paved, instead of just being miserable dirt tracks, so I could now reach the top in less than an hour, instead of spending 3 or 4 hours of laborious climbing. A geothermal project was indeed developed in the core of the volcanic center, with about 40 wells and an installed production capacity of 40 MW.
I roamed the roads as best I could, enjoying the fresh weather of the high altiplano and the pine forests that cover the mountain. I could recognize most of the volcanic units, and if I had had the foresight of bringing my geologic map I am pretty sure I could have identified all the different units. I spent two summers working here, and walked, drove, and rode in horseback every hill and ravine, but I was still shocked at how big and complicated the place is. By 2 pm I had crossed the whole massif and was working my way down the southern slopes, when I came upon the Mesoamerican city I had re-discovered 40 years ago, Cantona.
I need to clarify this last statement. I believed the site was described by Cortes in 1519, in his second letter to the King of Spain, where he described it as “a city of stone houses as magnificent as Seville”. The place is mentioned again in the late 1880’s by a French traveler, and my grandfather, who was a distinguished mountaineer, used to talk about a lost city near the boundary between Puebla and Veracruz. In 1983 I was mapping the geology of the volcanic center, and in the spectacular lava flows that spread in the plains to the south I noticed a peculiar “texture” on the aerial photographs. So I went to check it out and found an amazing stone city, with many narrow streets, workshop areas, and a very impressive “wall” of pyramids and ballgame courts where three lava flows were stacked upon each other. On a different portion of the volcanic center I found a large aphyric glassy rhyolite lava flow (i.e., a mountain of obsidian) and suspected that the site had been in control of the source. Since obsidian was the main cutting tool of Mesoamerica, having a mountain of high-quality obsidian was like having a mountain of gold. I mapped the city using aerial photographs, and consulting the archaeological literature was able to show that the Cantona obsidian had been traded all over Mesoamerica, from the Formative, through the Pre-classic and Classic, into the Post-classic and to the arrival of the Spaniards. I concluded that the site had been continuously occupied ever since the Formative (the only other site that can claim such long life is Monte Albán), and that it had been the eastern partner of the mighty Teotihuacán. Finally, I published the site map and my findings in the Journal of Field Archaeology in 1985. Here is the link to the paper in case you are curious https://www.jstor.org/stable/529903
As an aside, here is a human interest story: I invited my parents to come visit the site, which was very inaccessible, so we walked through the city and finished with a picnic. Faby was 3 or 4 years at the time, and still took naps, so we laid a blanket under the shade of a yucca, and she slept there for an hour or so. When she woke up we got ready to go, picked up the blanket, and saw a large rattle snake coiled under it! I think Faby has been entitled to claim the rattler as her totem (or patronus in modern parlance) ever since!
Faby, my Goddaughter Zoe, and myself visited Cantona 15 or 20 years ago, and by then an amazing amount of archaeologic work had been accomplished. They had been fast! Now, 40 years later, the site is beautifully restored and there is a site museum. From there I learnt that in the late 1980’s there had been some preliminary work done, and in 1992 a major archaeologic effort was authorized. I think my 1985 paper put heat on the INAH, and going through the museum I was happy to confirm that my conclusions had been validated: (1) The long period of occupation of the site and its close connection with Teotihuacán, (2) the importance of the obsidian quarrying, manufacture, and trade, (3) the critical location of the site at the main access point between the altiplano and the coastal plain, (4) the high significance of this site in Mesoamerican history. Yes, I am beating my own drum because there is no one else to do it for me.
In spite of the importance of the site, once again I was Zorro, the masked Lone Tourist. Literally, I was the only tourist visiting the site, and for two delicious hours I wandered the site like I had done 40 years ago. No pesky rangers or guides to tell me where I could or could not go, infinite opportunities to take my time taking photos or wandering through empty ballcourts, and all sorts of day dreams about what it must had looked out when 30,000 people roamed through its narrow streets, obsidian workshops, or public areas.
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