VOLAN COCHÉ.
CHAPTER XVI.
AKÉ AND IZAMAL.
Departure—A Family Exploration—“Volan coché”—Tixpénal and Tixkokob—Cenoté—Ruins of Aké—Historical Rectification—Small Pyramid—Tlachtli—A Large Gallery—Explorations—A Strange Theory—Picoté—Architecture of Yucatan at Different Epochs.
On our return from Merida, an expedition to Aké was organised consisting of the American Consul, Mr. Aymé, his wife, her pet dog Shuty, and ourselves. Mr. Aymé is an energetic archæologist, well acquainted with the ruins, so that his offer to accompany us was most welcome. The ruins of Aké are on a hacienda which belongs to Don Alvaro Peon, from whom a permit was easily obtained; he furnishing us besides with a large hamper to supply our wants, which his Chinese cook was to take to the hacienda.
Journeys in the interior of the peninsula may be performed either by diligence or “volan coché,” a national vehicle, made entirely of wood, save the iron tires of the wheels. An oblong box balanced on two leather springs is placed on a heavy underframe, the bottom of the carriage lined with a stout flax net, on which is spread a mattress, to deaden to some extent the jolting of these abominable roads. The coachman sits in front, while the back is occupied by the baggage; when the coché has but one occupant, he generally lies full-length on the mattress; but if not he sits Turkish fashion, which in time becomes very irksome to one not to the manner born; as to the natives, it seems to be immaterial how many are packed away in a “volan.” Although well hung, the swaying of these cochés is truly amazing, especially when the driver is drunk and sets his mules full gallop; but most wonderful of all is that nothing ever happens, and in my numerous expeditions I was only once upset.
Aké lies ten leagues east of Merida, which can be reached by the Izamal road, through immense estates of agave, leaving on the right two mounds covered with ruins and passing Tixpénal, a wretched-looking village, as indeed is the whole country around; but the half-burnt, tumbled-down hovels are the work of the revolted natives, who in 1846 occupied the village and set fire to it.
Some three leagues further lies Tixkokob, where we halt to have a cup of chocolate. The inhabitants are great hammock-makers, and through the open doors, multicoloured nets may be descried in every stage of progress. They are the only beds used by the natives, and cost from half-a-crown to four shillings, but those made at Valladolid are more expensive. Here we leave the main road for a cross path, when we may be said to become fully acquainted with a coché’s peculiarities. We are rocked to and fro in the most alarming manner; we hold on to the net like grim death, for fear of being pitched out on the stony road or landed among prickly pears at every turn. It is with a sigh of relief that we reach Ekmul, long after the curfew has been sounded, and the place lies wrapped in the silence and deep shadows of night. We found the hacienda strongly bolted, for the inmates had given us up; but the loud barking of the dogs brought Don Peon’s mayordomo, and we were soon made at home and as comfortable as the somewhat dilapidated nature of the dwelling would allow.