Ancient Mexico: Exploring the jungle ruins of Palenque, abandoned a thousand years ago

But this sound can’t be attributed to any of them.

The agouti is a strange little creature, a fantastical mix of rat and deer, and it is remarkably well-camouflaged. Had it not been so intent on munching its nuts, it would have gone unnoticed, but, as it is, we eventually spot it — and it spots us.

The rodent holds our gaze, quivering, apparently calculating something inside its little head. Satisfied with its workings, with a quick look right and left, it resumes nibbling.

It is getting late, and the sky is blackening. Our journey from San Cristóbal de las Casas earlier this morning was a long and stressful one, thanks to our bus driver’s fondness for overtaking on tight bends. Alighting safely, my girlfriend and I were happy to retire to our cabin early to watch the coming storm unfold from bed.

Tomorrow we plan to explore the nearby ruins of Palenque, a once powerful Maya city state which reached its height between 500 and 700 AD. For reasons that are not entirely clear — theories suggest a combination of overpopulation, ecological destruction, and power disputes — the city was abandoned around the dawn of the 10th century, before, eventually, being reclaimed by the jungle.

Lulled by the distant roar of thunder and the heavy rain on our roof, we sleep well, oblivious to a stream that has burst its banks and is now flowing through our hostel complex.

There is an understandably frantic air among the staff when we awake. They explain that while this unusual weather could be attributed to the natural climate pattern known as El Niño, it isn’t normal. The situation has been much exacerbated by climate change.

The morning starts sunny, but by the time we reach the entrance of the Palenque archaeological site, the mist has rolled back in and the rain is pouring. Lending a suitably atmospheric mood to the occasion, we pass through the jungle encircling the old city, crossing streams and waterfalls made ever more impressive by the rain. In the distance, we hear the monstrous roars of boisterous howler monkeys.

It feels as if we’ve slipped into a true wilderness, but the illusion is quickly broken.

Creeping deeper into the site, easing up old, stone stairways slick with rain, we are taken aback by a decidedly contemporary scene: a building site. New toilets are being installed on the fringes of this ancient centre, presumably in response to the growing popularity of the ruins. The jarring change serves as a bleak reminder that destruction, in the name of tourism, is playing its part in defining this region.

During the summer of 2020, construction began on a high-speed railway network connecting Palenque to other major tourism hubs across the Mexican parts of the Yucatán Peninsula. The Maya Train, as it’s known, has been framed by the Mexican government as a means to create jobs in tourism and, therefore, to reduce poverty in an otherwise severely underdeveloped region.

Mexico pumped huge sums of money into the project, which, in a turn that would humble even the planners of Ireland’s National Children’s Hospital, has increased in cost from an early estimate of about $8bn to closer to $30bn.

Enormous swathes of land have been deforested to make way for the railway, placing many of the region’s already at-risk species under even greater strain, while local Indigenous communities have been displaced. The ecological damage and the promised influx of tourists, too, will likely place greater pressure on water supplies which are already beginning to dwindle.

Even as one is humbled by the exquisite beauty of Palenque, the idea of destruction is impossible to avoid. While this particular Mayan city was abandoned long before the arrival of the Spanish, the wider legacies of colonisation are plain to note here and throughout Chiapas more broadly.

Climbing the steep steps at Palenque up one of the tallest temples in the complex, we marvel at the remarkable sophistication of the Mayan’s achievements. Their temples remain grand and their art intricate.

A distant roar pierces the air. It is the sound, not of howler monkeys, but of heavy machinery.

Early the next day, we feel adventurous and decide to follow a trail behind our hostel to see where it will take us.

Within half an hour, we are surrounded by roars that, this time, we know are the local primates. We sense they are close by so in a rush to the head, and with naive enthusiasm, we sprint off the trail and into the jungle, hopping over streams and ducking under low-hanging branches, blindly dedicated to locating the troop.

We are soon lost.

Stumbling onto someone’s land, we spy a farmhouse from which a man appears. His name is Gerónimo, and, after exchanging pleasantries, he offers to take us on a tour of the jungle for a few hundred pesos. With his promise to bring us to the monkeys, we gladly accept.

We are walking for only a minute, when Gerónimo stops and points up to the treetops. There they are: mammy, daddy, and two baby monkeys. We watch, rapt for as long as our craning necks can endure, as the cosy clan go about their business. When not screaming at their rivals, these howlers seem to live peaceful lives.

We walk with Gerónimo for hours. As he clears a path ahead of us with his machete, he shares his local knowledge about the wondrous plants and
animals we encounter along the way. He tells us, too, about the Zapatistas.

On January 1, 1994, the Zapatista Army of National Liberation (EZLN) gained global notoriety by revolting against the Mexican government and demanding regional autonomy and indigenous rights.

The uprising was short-lived, with a ceasefire coming into effect 12 days later, but it ushered in a new era of self-governance across Chiapas, in which community-run schools, health clinics and other services were established.

Gerónimo is evidently proud of the Zapatistas’ achievements, but what he fails to mention is that Chiapas, today, is in flux.

While we are in the tourist-friendly Palenque, having come from the safe city of San Cristóbal, other parts of the state have recently succumbed to the scourge of cartel violence.

The future of the Zapatistas, in the face of such chaos, is far from clear.

As his tour, and our day, nears its end, Gerónimo points to a field in the distance, where a man can be seen standing alone, axe in hand, chopping wood. We stand silently watching him for a while, the sound of his axe periodically filling the air.

It is a simple scene of a simple life, moving and memorable. People throughout Chiapas, like everyone else, want to live with dignity and security. The tragedy is that, despite struggling for it, they may not be permitted to.

Later that night, my girlfriend and I wander around in the darkness beyond our cabin. The weather is calm, and, as we snake along the trail, little yellow lights began to appear all around us. The fireflies are putting on a show, determined, it seemed, to convince us that these woods are enchanted.

It seems a fitting end to the trip: a moment of magic, in a beautiful land under terrible, unseen strain.

Escape notes

Getting to Chiapas from Ireland isn’t easy or cheap. Make your way, first, to Heathrow Airport and fly with British Airways to Mexico City. Spend a night or two there, enjoy the street food, and proceed south by bus or plane.

The ADO buses are comfortable, cheap, and more environmentally friendly than flying, but it’s a long drive.

You could alternatively fly into Tuxtla Gutiérrez International Airport with Aeroméxico and get an OCC bus to the modern city of Palenque, which is the gateway to the ruins.

November through to March is the ideal time to visit Palenque; the rainy season, falls between May and October, and should be avoided.

A range of accommodation is available at the edge of the archaeological zone. For those on a budget, El Panchan offers simple rooms in a beautiful, jungle environment. At the higher end, Piedra de Aqua Palenque is a five-star hotel with a spa and outdoor pool.

Keeping safe

Increasing violence in wider Chiapas is undoubtedly a concern, but sticking to tourist-friendly areas such as Palenque and San Cristóbal de las Casas should
ensure your safety.

Locals convinced us that we should not rent a car to transport ourselves around the state, as it is easy to take a wrong turn and end up along dangerous routes. It is much safer to travel by bus, but, if you do rent a car, never drive at night. If you’re unsure about a route, ask a friendly local for advice.