Lately, I have been looking into stories and happenings in Mexico that, for one reason or another, never quite achieved the fame of other national legends. Some stories catch hold of the public imagination and refuse to let go. Others drift quietly along the margins of conversation, mentioned occasionally, then forgotten again.
It occurred to me that some of these lesser-known tales should, from time to time, be dusted off, their origins once again wandering through conversation.
Some legends age well, while others improve with neglect. Here is one such story.
‘The Forgotten Ones’
High in the mountains of El Cielo Biosphere Reserve (ECBR) in the northeastern Mexican state of Tamaulipas, there lingers a quiet legend about a group known simply as Los Olvidados, or “The Forgotten Ones.”
According to the tale, long ago, a band of shamans from the ancient Maya civilization slipped away from their communities and traveled north into these remote mountains. No one is entirely certain why they left. Still, it becomes remarkably vague whenever a group of mystics decides to walk into the wilderness and not come back.
What the stories claim is that these shamans eventually settled deep in the forests of the protected ECBR region, where mountains rise high enough to catch the clouds and hold them for a while. It is a forest where mist drifts slowly through the trees and the trails twist out of sight after a few dozen yards.
If a person wished to disappear into such a place, the forest would be more than willing to assist.
And so, according to local lore, the shamans vanished into the mountains and became the quiet guardians of the forest. Over time, they came to be known as Los Olvidados. This name, however, presents a small problem.
The mysterious stories about El Cielo’s forest guardians
Forgotten things generally stay forgotten. They do not occasionally appear on remote paths, standing silently among the trees before slipping back into the fog. Yet hikers, ranchers and the occasional birdwatcher have all reported glimpsing figures in the forest; men who seem oddly out of place, watching the land with the patience of someone who has been waiting a very long time.
Naturally, no one ever gets a very good look. This is one of the basic rules of folklore. The mysterious figure is always seen at a distance, often obscured by mist or trees. Still, the stories persist.
Admittedly, the setting does much of the work. The ECBR forests are the sort of place where imagination feels perfectly comfortable stretching its legs. The mountains are steep, the vegetation thick and the fog drifts through the trees with the deliberate pace of a stage curtain preparing to draw.
In such surroundings, even a perfectly ordinary person standing quietly on a hillside can look supernatural, if only for a moment. Add a few centuries of retelling, and the figure becomes a guardian spirit.
Who are ‘The Forgotten Ones’?
Of course, historians point out a small geographical curiosity. The great centers of the Maya civilization were located hundreds of miles to the south. For a group of shamans to journey all the way north into the mountains of Tamaulipas would require a fairly determined expedition.
But legends have never been especially bothered by geography. If a good story requires a few extra miles of travel, history generally looks the other way.
In fact, legends thrive on exactly this kind of uncertainty. A small gap in the historical record is like a loose thread on a sweater. Once someone begins pulling on it, the entire garment slowly unravels into a much more interesting story. Modern times, if anything, have helped the legend along.
In earlier centuries, a mysterious sighting might circulate among a few nearby villages. Today, it can travel across the internet before dinner. A blurry photograph of a distant figure standing among trees can revive an old legend faster than a campfire story on a cold evening.
A blurry figure on a ridge
Visitors now travel to the region precisely because of its wild beauty. Hikers arrive with cameras, binoculars and the quiet hope that they might glimpse something unusual among the trees. Most of them see nothing more mysterious than a bird, a deer or a particularly stubborn cloud of mosquitoes.
But occasionally, someone notices a figure far up a ridge, standing quietly for a moment before disappearing into the forest. And the story begins again.
Of course, there are other possible explanations. The mountains are large, and it would not be entirely surprising if a few solitary individuals had chosen to live quietly among them over the years. A hermit, a naturalist or perhaps a park ranger taking a moment to admire the view could easily appear briefly and vanish before anyone has time to ask for identification. But that explanation lacks poetry.
The idea that ancient guardians still walk the forest has a certain elegance. It suggests that someone, somewhere, is quietly keeping an eye on things, someone who remembers the forest as it once was and would prefer that it remain that way.
The legend lives on
And perhaps that is the real reason the legend of Los Olvidados survives.
In a world where nearly every corner of the map has been photographed, cataloged and given directions on a phone, it is comforting to imagine that a few places remain slightly mysterious, and where the forest, for a moment, seems to remember something the rest of us have forgotten.
Robert Santacroce is a contributor to Mexico News Daily.
