Languishing in the shade, we fill our many empty water bottles, with the sparkling elixir, and drink until we are drunk on minerals and bubbles. Troubles and worries begin to drop away. There is something almost magical about sitting by this ancient spring. Clearly, it has had a soothing effect on our beings.
A gentle wind, smelling of sun-heated dried grasses, spicy eucalyptus, and stories from long ago, remind us of our destination - the small village of Atalbeitar. And so, we make our way back out onto the hot and dusty path.
I know what is coming up, for I traveled this path two years ago. I feel excitement as we make our way towards the Era del Trance, an ancient threshing floor. It is a large outcrop where the wind once helped winnow the chaff from the grain.
I love this bit of history, and I love imaging the community gathering in celebration to bring in the harvest. But that isn’t why I feel excited. I feel excited, for the local folk-lore says that “witches” gather here at night. That they fly in on brooms with their familiar’s perched behind them. It is supposed to be a scary story and a place to avoid at night. But of course for me, I want to know these witches, these wise women who gathered.
I imagine them just like me and my circle of wise women friends - who laugh and cackle, share our wisdom and heart-break, gather healing herbs for our families, and maybe spin tall tales…
…tall tales, that might keep the Era to themselves under the light of the full moon.
I want to know THESE women!
So, as we enter the Era del Trance, we give thanks, sing, dance and chant to our sisters of old… who maybe… were just like us!
With temperatures building, it is hard to linger long on the Era. Fortified with the magic of witches, we continue toward the hill town.
Things are getting a bit wobbly. The air has taken on a thick quality, and not from the heat, but something different. Guided by some internal magic or delirium, Alice - who knows these mountains, takes us on a “wrong” path.
As we continue to climb, the trail gets narrower and more over grown. Before we realize our “mistake” we cross a veil. We enter a time out of time. I am not really sure how to explain it, but time has shifted – and we all feel it.
We hear the unmistakable sound of a large waterfall. The wind picks up, funneling cool moist air down the trail to meet us. No longer dragging from the heat, we run to meet the moist air head-on. Laughing and delighting, we rip off shoes and packs, and drench ourselves in the iron rich waters pouring over a precipice meters above.
The iron rich water has stained the rocks an orangey-red-brown. Rust being too bland a word to describe the color. Lush emerald ferns cling to the sides of the waterfall. Long roots hang from the heavens dripping with water.
And the smell… the smell of iron fills the air. I am reminded that iron comes from deep within the earth, the stars above, and pulses through our own blood – making us and this place - heaven and earth.
In this sacred grotto, we all enter our own internal place of meditation and ecstasy. One of us is tattooing herself with the rich iron mud from under the emerald colored ferns. Another is sitting in graceful meditation on the rocks, gently receiving the healing spray of the waterfall. Another is standing directly under the flow of mineral rich water meters above, with the roar of the falls echoing through her body.
When we played to our fill, one by one, we left the grotto and wandered back down the path, crossing back through the veil, and meeting at the fork in the path where we had taken the “wrong” turn.
We all questioned if that all really happened - It had that kind of quality to it. We had entered a sacred space and we weren’t entirely sure, that if we came back tomorrow, that the path to the waterfall would actually be there.
A time out of time…
A sacred place...
and
eventually
we did make our way to Atalbeitar.
