Peace Juggle (via skiphunt)
I met an Argentine juggler in the Huiricuta desert region of Mexico while I was communing with Mescalito and working on a large peace sign outlined in stone… started in 2009.
I asked if he wouldn’t mind juggling inside my peace sign and obliged.
:-) For your pleasure…
I also experimented with seeing what I could do with an iPhone 4 and a handful of apps while I was traveling. I published some “Skip Hunt 20/20” short photomags from the road and a fine art photographer friend or mine who bought one tells me the print quality is impressive. If you’re curious… those issues and more can all be previewed online HERE
After verifying the quality was indeed even more impressive than I’d hoped… I uploaded my favorites to a gallery HERE
A friend asked me about the warped composite, tiled, layered, blurred, etc. effect I got on some of the scenes from this trip, so I wrote a brief Squidoo article explaining what I was after and why. For anyone interested, I included samples, etc. HERE
“Do I have to put the law on you baby
Lock you up and throw away the key
For the countless counts of low down double-cross you’ve been about?
Have you no decency?”
~~~
“Low Down Double Cross” © 2009 Skip Hunt
“It wasn’t long before another bohemian showed up… an Argentine who turned out to have an incredible fascination with photography. I showed him the ropes of the place and told him about the farmer who comes by once a week (today) with fresh… fruits and vegetables for cheap. He didn’t know what peyote looks like or how to clean it, etc. So I agreed once again to indoctrinate my fellow would-be peyotero to how to cut a rug with Senor Mescalito.
All went well after I’d answered the hundredth question about photography and stated I’d answer just one more before we had to focus on getting our minds clear for the “ceremony”. I can’t really can’t have the kind of experience I like to when I’m functioning as a guide because I’m always looking toward the inductee and making sure they’re doing ok. They usually follow all of my advice and there’s rarely a problem. But, I try to keep my head focused on their having a great experience instead of my own. I suppose that’s my little way of “paying it forward.” ;-)
It was a great afternoon with perfect weather. The Argentine mostly wondered about making photos in the desert. When he came back to show me what he’d captured, I was blown away. All of this time I’ve spent in the desert, I never thought to focus on the main thing I was trying to avoid, i.e.. thorns. The thorns or “espinas” in Huiricuta are particularly brutal. Well hidden, and perpetually finding there way through your boot’s sole and or embedded deep in your hands and legs. Over the years, I’ve learned to keep the unwanted barbs out of my flesh, but I’d never thought to turn my lens to what I’d always feared most… the thorns! What a revelation!”
(From my Skip Hunt Vagabond travel blog)
“Espinas Ses” ~ Shot in the Sacred Huiricuta desert region of San Luis Potosi, Mexico © 2009 Skip Hunt
Also, included in my new Calendar “Skip Hunt Vagabond :: Mexico 2009 :: Muchas Espinas”
Cactus from the desert region called Huiricuta by the Huichol Indians in San Luis Potosi, Mexico for my travel blog Skip Hunt Vagabond which I just completed the final entry for this journey. Disfruta!
Also, you can view more thorn-themed images from this region in this little extra gallery HERE
At last a rusty 3rd class Bluebird bus arrived in a cloud of fine dry dust. No too many passengers except a dusty dred-coiffed couple. The young fella looked as if he might be Mexican, but his companion was Japanese. I generally avoid these types because they’re fairly cliquish if you don’t sport the same rasta uniform. That… and, they tend to attract la policia.
We arrived in Wadley and the rasta-boy asked me in English, “Is this Wadley?”. Couldn’t make out the accent, but it sounded Israeli. I confirmed, and said, “See ya ‘round… It’s a small place.”, then bolted for the hacienda of Don Tomas. The camp compound was deserted so Don Tomas helped me remove some piles of metal rod and wood planks that had taken up residence in my preferred larger tin-roofed cinder block room since my last visit. As always, he re-reminded me not to carry peyote into the town and to keep it out of the camp. He advised to just eat it in the desert and you’ll have no problems. In the last ten years I’d rarely seen la policia, nor encountered anyone who’d been busted in the desert, but the 3rd party stories were always rampant so I usually heeded the advice.
Off I went into the desert, called Wirikuta by the Huichol, to get my first vomit laden “break-in” trip over with. After the first peyote induced bout with severe abdominal distress, I tend to acclimate and can avoid the whole ugly digestive mess on subsequent journeys.
I started out heavier than I should’ve. Ten plants, and I paid dearly. I won’t trouble you with the details, but the ill portion of the excursion lasted 3hrs. After paying my dues, the rest of the evening was quite pleasant. Magical in fact! Mescalito finally gave me a break and I was able to drift off into Technicolor dreamland.
The next morning, after I’d stocked up on fresh goat cheese, tomatoes, tortillas, and water as the young hippy couple stopped by the empty compound. They’d also taken a room from Don Tomas, but he’d put them up in the camp closer to the railroad track. A less desirable locale since the train passing feels like a mechanized earth quake every hour or so, tough to sleep… but you do get used to it, eventually.
The couple introduced themselves and we made a bit of the usual comparative travel small talk. After I realized these were the new arrivals who earlier Don Tomas was asking me if I’d indoctrinate in the proper harvesting, cleaning, and dining of peyote, I asked if they’d be ready to head off in an hour or so. They seemed nervously thrilled to have an English speaker run them through the ropes the first time, as they didn’t speak a word of Espanol. We all parted to pack the essentials, ie. a few oranges to choke the plants down, a good knife, water, smokes, etc.
I was a little apprehensive about volunteering to hang with a couple of dred-headed neo-flower children, but I’d recently misjudged the character of one straight-laced and alleged American attorney in Mexico City, so I figured I’d give these two a chance.
As the afternoon blazed, and after we’d all made it past the complimentary nausea hump, we built a nice fire and drifted through loose conversational threads as we gazed at occasional stars shooting down from the milky way. I told stories, that looped back into other stories, and they shared as well. Turns out the young fella had spent his 3 years in the Israeli army, had to do a bit of fighting except he said it wasn’t much of a fight, “They had rocks, we had guns.” The memory seemed to weigh heavy on him and I asked if he’d ever had to kill anyone. I could actually feel the pain in his eyes, and it hurt me to know such a gentle character had to endure such a horrible experience. He said he thought he probably had killed, but he couldn’t be sure.
I changed the subject as much for his benefit as mine. I’ve learned from experience that it’s not generally such a grand idea to delve into such topics when the mind is so vulnerable.
It was a beautiful night and I was sad when they had to move on the next day. I’d miss them, but would look forward to catching up to them one day in India where they now make their home in between trips to Japan to sell handicrafts and jewelry.
They’d already been gone for a few hours when I went to take refuge from the heat and found a dear letter from them under my pillow. They each thanked me kindly for showing them “the way” and urged me to look them up the next time I’m stumbling through India. :-)
“John and Yoko 2000” ~ Near Wadley, Mexico © Skip Hunt ~ http://www.skiphuntphotography.com
Clutching one another, they endured the chilly desert night.. passion’s noonday fire… thrashing demon wind…
Their devotion was tested as all will know…
They’ll now bask in brother Sol’s warm cradle and dance in sister Luna’s loving glow…
For they have the prize of the ages… and will suffer no more.
“Devotion” ~ Wirikuta region with Quemado in the background, Mexico © Skip Hunt ~ http://www.skiphuntphotography.com
I was alone in the desert in Northern Mexico (San Luis Potosi) Wirikuta area… and sitting in the boiling sun on a large black and white-veined stone reading and trying to understand a few Indian Upansishads… I was eating peyote in the desert (peyote is a hallucinogenic cactus used by the Huichol Indians) and was deep in thought, or had at least convinced myself that I was.
It doesn’t take long when the scorching desert sun is pounding the crown of your head before you start deliriously talking to yourself, and having all kinds of bizarro imaginings… like, just how might someone start a revolution when one has no experience? Is there a “Revolution for Dummies” book available?…
You get the idea… The sun had brought the mescaline in my brain to a low simmer… I thought I heard something in the scrub and began to panic… a small herd of goats came barreling past my mesquite shade tree and reading rock… Just as I’d begun to relax a bit from the false alarm, this campasino goat herder came out of nowhere sporting a huge smile with this bright blood-red stuff all over his mouth! He called out, “Buenos!!” And, continued speaking in pretty much a loud yell. I was a bit taken aback to say the least, but only because he looked very much like his mouth was covered in blood and I started to panic again…
I quizzed him on how he’d hurt himself and why he was bleeding (in my very poor Espanol)… I couldn’t understand what he was wailing about and was getting more and more nervous… He just kept yelling!!!
I nervously started scanning the area for a good clear path through the cacti to run without picking up too many needle-sharp cactus spines.
Frustrated, the goat herder took out a very large and rusty machete (my heart’s pounding strong and fast at this point) and he went over to a nopale cactus bush and cut off one of the “la tuna” fruits.. When he sliced it up after pulling all the spines from it, it bled bright blood-red juice and I finally realized what the stuff around the herder’s mouth was…. Prickly pear fruit! I was sooooo relieved that I handed him a fistful of peso coins and asked if I could take his photo. He agreed, then gave my pesos back… wanting to know why I gave them to him in the first place. I told him, that I had enough and thought he might want to buy a Coke refresco when he got to the rancho. His eyes lit up with the thought of an ice cold Coke as he pocketed the coins and thanked me.
(I later found out that the shepards ” yell” because they’re always yelling in conversation across the desert to a fellow shepard. They just get used to talking very LOUD and forget to turn it down when the person they’re talking to is only a few feet away)
Before he left, he took his machete out of his belt again, quickly found another peyote cactus and carved it up as a gift in return.
I’m sure it’s just my own reflection, but if you look in his eyes, the pupils look like vertical slits like a goat instead of round.
“Goat Boy” ~ Wiricuta Plateau, Mexico © Skip Hunt ~ http://skiphunt.carbonmade.com
Into a brutal harsh desert we are born. Alone.
Sentenced to wander golden dunes of time in search of meaning.
Alone, we follow an invisible path to carry us nowhere…
Alone, we finally arrive at both the place we sought…
and from where we first began… so many eons ago.
I made this image in 1998… somewhere near Merzouga, Morocco.
“Valley of Life” ~ http://skiphunt.carbonmade.com
This was created while I waited for Mescalito to finish having his way with my digestive system… as I chilled out in a Mexican desert cemetery. Timelapse created manually with a Panasonic LX1.
