Oscar2
Dec 13, 2009, 3:13 PM
Post #4 of 5
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Re: [wendy devlin] What happened to the worm, in Mezcal?
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A few years after I met my wife, in 1975 on one of our trips to Mexico we were determined to drive our new van all the way down the coast to Acapulco. On one of the legs of our trip, we stayed in a trailer park in Mazatlan. We had as neighbors some young Canadian guys in a Greyhound bus who we partied with. We were young, brash and hell raisers back then and were determined to have a good time while doing it.
One day, one of the Canadians rented a yellow convertible jeep Volkswagen. We all piled in for a ride to find somewhere inland from the coast a Mescal factory we were told existed down this endless very dusty, dry dirt road that stretched for miles over rutted ridges and hillsides strewn with old dry sagebrush, Joshua Trees, cactus and more. There was no sign of life, just desolation, ridge after ridge until we reached a hilltop where in the bleak, hot summer sun, at a distance, like a mirage, seemingly growing out from the dirt and dust were scattered structures of life.
From this hilltop back then, I remember seeing a few scattered pollapas, adobe huts, goats, and farm animals blending into the earth. The outlining of paved roads, paint and church cathedrals were non-existent except for the hot sun having its way with everything and painting it with bristles filled with bleach. Back then it was a scratched existence like hundreds of unseen small villages far off the main paved Carretera, throughout Mexico where life was what it was. Yes, to me, this was a frontier.
These fun filled, wild Canadians from the converted Greyhound bus hooped and hollered and with laughter and broad smiles we were all bent on adventure and having a blast. Somehow, we managed to find this prehistoric Mescal factory thrown together by branched structures covered by dried palm thatch and pits dug into the earth for cactus storage. Various fire pits spewed smoke of profits to come. Like days of Spartacus, the ox tethered to a thick tree log rotated a very large wheel like muela/stone that ground away the cactus juices of life the villagers depended on.
The villagers were happy to see us and with a sparkle in their eyes and with smiles to support it, they toured us while enticing us with there smooth liquid gold which passed through our entrails and heated our spirits. We were warned and told that Mescal can cause one to hallucinate in route to getting the magical worm. We made sure we emptied the bottles in route to that worm and yes, we were actually hallucinating or so drunk that we didn’t know the difference. We were all smiles and a bunch of happy crazies back then. One thing for sure, the blazing, gorgeous orange-red fireball of a Mazatlan sunset still hangs over our master bedroom bathroom wall. When I tinkle, it winks back at me telling of good times gone by.
This is another current Mescal factory we just toured near Patzcuaro....without the worm, but the Mescal still had its fire...
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