Burning Plains

The heart of agave production in Mexico is in a valley surrounded by low desert mountains, bisected by canyons and dry river beds. Some farmers still burn their fields before planting and the smell of perfumed smoke is everywhere. A haze settles on the horizon and turns the mountains and the fires moving up their flanks into abstract shapes.

I traveled there to help my good friend Ricky document his agave fields, to show and experience the place from which the world’s tequila flows. We stayed with his cousin, Arturo, in a small ranch twenty minutes drive from the town of San Gabriel (a portrait of Arturo is below). When the haze allows, you can see two volcanoes towering over the valley - fire and ice, one active and one capped by snow.

This valley, this place of ranches, canyons and burning fields, is the birthplace and inspiration for the great Mexican novelist Juan Rulfo, one of the progenitors of magical realism and a talented photographer. I carried with me a copy of Pedro Páramo, by Juan Rulfo. The novel is one of death and regret. It exists in a realm of ghosts and memories but I felt none of that outside the novel.

The fields were peaceful and silent save for the wind as the sun rose and set. The ranch was alive no matter the time of day. Roosters crowed and donkeys brayed and dogs barked before the sun rose. We too rose before the sun and drank instant coffee with boiled cinnamon before climbing into the truck and journeying out to the fields.

Rulfo’s other famous work is a collection of short stories titled En llano en llamas, The Burning Plain.