Parrots screeched overhead and dense morning mist rose from the valley below, as the sun lurched over a distant ridge.

Looking west, all I could see were mountains covered in cloud forest, and, in between, valleys choked in tropical vegetation of every shade of green. There are hidden waterfalls, and extensive strands of primeval forest. Even a few jaguars still prowl the mountains.

And it was difficult to believe I had only driven four hours south of Texas to get there.

Where the tropical sidewalk ends

The northern reaches of the Sierra Madre Oriental in the Mexican state of Tamaulipas represent the tip of the tropics. The highest ridges and peaks are covered in cloud forests of oak and pine, branches are heavy with epiphytes of ferns and orchids, and the river valleys support subtropical rainforest.

Numerous species of tropical plants and animals reach the northern terminus of their distribution here. You can see parrots — and many tropical bird species — along with other wildlife, including peccaries, mountain lions, ocelots, and jaguars.

I wouldn’t expect to see the rare spotted cat though. A local who had roamed these mountains his entire life told me he'd seen one once a few years back, but never saw another again.

The region represents a meeting point of the tropics to the south, and more temperate zones to the north, creating immense biodiversity. The El Cielo Biosphere Reserve protects 356,442 acres of cloud forest, jungles, rivers, and rocky peaks.

While the majority of the reserve is difficult to access and local guides are necessary to explore some of the trails, the area around the town of Gómez Farías offers easy access and days worth of exploration.

Getting to town to get out of town

After the bustle of the Brownsville-Matamoros international border, it pays to stay alert. If it's possible to leave the Matamoros area without getting lost and head south towards Ciudad Victoria, the trip has already been half successful.

For 260 miles, the highway passes mostly through agricultural lands and winds further past sugarcane plantations, until the first humps of the Sierra Madre Oriental appear in the distant haze.

Just south of Ciudad Victoria, a turnoff leads up a narrow, winding road into the mountains toward the small village of Gómez Farías. The pavement quickly turns into cobblestones, and, after another mile, into dirt.

When you hit Gómez Farías, keep going

Gómez Farías offers modest accommodations and a few eateries. It’s a great place to relax and meet other travelers, as the area is popular with local tourists. But the true mountains are further.

It was here that we learned from a group of spelunkers that these mountains harbor probably dozens of undiscovered cave systems. I later found out this was true for myself, when I nearly fell into a sinkhole going for a night jungle hike. The opening was several feet across and an indeterminable number of feet deep.

From Gómez Farías, you can hike into the mountains following the main dirt road, or cutting through spectacular cloud forest along a steep wide trail.

Either route is strenuous, but offers a great chance to observe the local plants and animals, especially the subtle changes with increasing elevation.

Up, up, and away!

We opted to ride in one of the oversized four-wheel jeeps that drive to the higher villages. The track appeared as if construction had hacked the roadbed out of the mountain with dynamite, and then abandoned the project to erosion.

The vehicle groaned up the slope over huge boulders around tight turns and through monster potholes. Thank goodness for forward motion, because turning around wouldn't have been an option most of the way.

Let's do the time warp

The little village of Alta Cima — at the end of the road — appears as if out of another time. It consisted of a grassy clearing cropped close by roaming donkeys and goats, enclosed by rickety fences lie in between stone buildings.

The mornings in the village are cool and misty, and start with the first vocal chickens. The days warm up pleasantly in the clear mountain air, and the nights are early, as there is no electricity.

We camped for several nights on Moises Camacho’s property, and he invited us to a simple dinner of chicken and tortillas.

Over dessert of sweet bread, we talked for a long time of how the area had changed over the years. His grandfather used to sleep in the cornfields to scare off black bears that wandered out of the woods to steal the harvest.

Nowadays, there's no more logging or agriculture within the reserve, and tourism can be slow, but Moises loves the peaceful lifestyle of the mountains.

Somewhere out there

From Alta Cima, a handful of tracks depart towards distant villages and ranches. We spent a day exploring a flat dirt road meandering through open forest of Ponderosa pine.

Hiking for several hours we reached a rock formation called “El Elephante,” which did not require much imagination. Here, rain and wind had carved the limestone into a life-sized animal, including the trunk, but just missing the ears.

Retracing our route, we met a young school teacher who educated several children in one of the more remote villages. Every few weeks, he commenced a six-hour commute on foot that ended in Alta Cima, where he crossed through some of the most pristine forest in Mexico.

False starts and no carts

On Sunday, we packed our tent and backpacks and headed down to the village square to catch a ride out of town, where a gnarled mandarin tree gave some shade. We watched villagers herd donkeys and horses. All day long.

After several hours of waiting, it became apparent that no vehicle would come up or go down the mountains that day.

Moises laughed as we retreated to his yard, unfolded our tent (again), and settled in for another night.

There are no schedules and no interruptions of modern life in Alta Cima. The nights are quiet, full of stars and dark woods. Occasionally, a dog barks or a donkey may try to break a fence lured by greener grass. But that's about all the disruption you're going to get.

The next morning, we plopped onto a pile of backpacks in the bed of a large four-wheel truck. Arriving in Gómez Farías after a two rattling hours, we already missed the cool quiet of Alta Cima.