Riding across the river, we made the ascent to the summit, on which were the ruins of Tecomavaca Viejo.

The ascent was so abrupt that our horses were repeatedly compelled to stop for breath.

The trail passed through cactuses, and spiny shrubs and trees, which tore our clothes more than all we had endured during weeks of travel.

The ruins are unquestionably old.

The hilly slope presents a succession of terraced platforms, one behind the other, at different heights.