Previous: Chapter Twelve: The Yucatán Express
At first light, the Perrera-Perezes prepared breakfast for the hungry Ranchers. The last kilometer would be traversed on foot, they were warned, but the terrain would not be difficult.
Gaby glanced at Merl’s full sized expedition frame pack. “You might not need that much, Merl.”
“I’ve got Doc’s whole poop sample kit and Cap’s drone packed in here. They’ll need that much for sure.”
Gaby eased the tram out of the siding, with Feliz riding shotgun. The tram climbed uphill, away from the little town with its market below. MaryLiz and Merl sat in the back, steadying the gear packed between them, while Frances and Jo sat in the middle row, both nervously eyeing the state of the track ahead. The electric drive train sang four part harmony beneath their feet.
The air cooled as the train passed deeper inland under the canopy of the Yucatan forest. Only once did they encounter another tram, a lone driver hauling a load of parcels bearing the names of well known shipping corporations. Gaby throttled the flow of current to the driving wheels as they followed the delivery driver at a safe distance to the top of the hill, where, mercifully, the slower cargo tram signaled the hill top’s village siding to open, and rolled away from the main line.
After another hour’s journey, Gaby rolled to a stop in a level clearing, five miles past the previous village. The forest stretched on either side of the track bed.
“Here we need to unload. The tram, too. We’ll pull it off the tracks. Set it here, on this side.”
The team followed suit. Once the six of them had set the tram on the earth beside the siding, Gaby slid a keyed rod into a hole at the base of the tram’s chassis, and two pneumatic rubber wheels dropped to the ground. Gaby unfolded a yoke made of bicycle tubing from the front of the tram, and pushed down towards the earth, lifting the back wheels of the tram off of the track. The rubber “landing gear” of the tram locked into place on the ground.
“We’ll have to pull it to just over the next rise, through there.” Gaby pointed at the treeline of the clearing. “I think, about a hundred meters. We can load the tram back up or carry our gear by hand in a separate trips, it’s your choice.”
“They could make a movie about this,” remarked Frances, dryly.
Balanced with their belongings lashed over the axle of its landing gear, the tram proved relatively easy to drag into the forest. The rise Gaby had described was brief, just tall enough to hide the end of a set of rails ending ten meters from the far side of its summit. After a brief rest past the top of the rise, the tram was eased onto the rails, its all-terrain gear retracted into place. The passengers reboarded.
“58% battery,” Gaby reported. “We’ll get some of that back on the return trip.”
Over the nearly dead level track, the tram’s motors had little to do. What breeze there was seemed to carry along with them, so that the only sounds were those of the cries of birds. MaryLiz imagined that one could hear the forest growing.
After half an hour, the tram slowed. Gaby brought it to a stop just short of the rusted out safety bumper at the end of the line, and set the parking brake.
“From here, we walk. If you brought it this far,” (Gaby eyed Merl), “you might as well bring it the rest of the way.”
Soon the tram was lost to sight behind them. The terrain was flat and easy going. The forest was mature, its canopy well over 40 meters above their heads. A bare suggestion of a trail (human or animal) was occasionally lost in fresh undergrowth, but Gaby could find it again after a quick GPS check.
After twenty minutes, Gaby called a halt. “Listen.” Gaby said.
Over the sound of birds, insect, and growing trees, there was a rushing sound, the sound of flowing water.
Gaby turned to Merl. “It’s a good thing to discover for oneself, the first time. I’ll follow. Watch your step.”
Merl set forward towards the sound of water, followed by the rest of the crew. Gaby trailed the group to the rear.
At length, before them, the ground appeared to give way, and the party stood at the rim of a vast, circular pit, fifty stories deep, walled in steel grey ancient limestone. The far rim of this vast hole in the forest lay obscured in mist, more than a thousand meters away.
“Wow,” said Frances.
“Tsʼonot X’balanque,” said Gaby.
“Mayan again?” asked Feliz.
“Yes. It means El cenote de X’balanque. The Pool of X’balanque.”
“What ‘pool’?” asked Merl. “I don’t see any, but I can hear it.”
Indeed, it appeared that a mature forest grew in the depths of the cenote: the tops of trees remained visible through the mist.
“It’s down there,” replied Gaby. “You have a lot of little islands leftover from the breakdown collapse that formed the cenote. The trees grow in soil deposited on top of those. The flowing water is a segment of underground river. Actually, “River of X’balanque” might be a better translation, considering the legend.”
“How do we get down there?” asked Jo.
“Why do we get down there?” asked Frances.
“What legend?” asked MaryLiz.
“I’ll tell you,” said Gaby.