Mexico's fliers: An ancient tradition from 100 feet up

CUETZALAN, MEXICO — Ricardo García kneels before the towering tree in the middle of town and, like his brothers and father before him, prepares for a journey taking him 100 feet up and 2,500 years into the past.

He places one foot on a wooden step nailed into the spine of the tree trunk shorn of branches. He hoists himself up, a hand on one plank, then another. Wind ruffles the gold fringe at the hems of his red pants and the feathers on his headdress as he climbs with no safety harness.

At the top, almost parallel with the bells of the church tower, he sits alongside three other voladores — fliers — on a square frame mounted on the pole. He ties a thick rope attached to the pole around his waist. People in the square below lift their faces to watch.

Ricardo, 25, has been making this climb since he was 15 and his chest "cold" with nerves. For years, as a child, he had watched with envy as his two brothers took to the pole in ceremonies central to the identity of this town and its people.

Now, he sits with his legs dangling, taking in the church's spire, the tiny spectators below, the cluster of houses giving way to central Mexico's lush green mountains. Ricardo hears the whistling of a flute and the beat of a drum played by a fifth volador stomping inches away at the top of the pole, his back arched and face tilted toward the sky.

Then on the count of three, Ricardo and three others lean backward to fall headfirst into nothing.

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Across Mexico, hundreds of people take to the skies this way, spiraling gently to earth and preserving an Indigenous tradition that survived