Enormous Canyon, Drunken Cowboys, Hiking, and Marijuana

The Copper Canyon is incredible! Although we were only able to explore a tiny section in a week, we were able to gain appreciation for its size and beauty. The “Copper Canyon” is a network of six main canyons with parts larger and deeper than the Grand Canyon of the U.S. We took the clase economic, or second class train, from El Fuerte to Creel. The train ride afforded fantastic views and a shorter route where no roads go. Some guide books allude to the second class train being terribly slow, late, and overly crowded with people and their livestock. Thus, I was surprised when passengers seemed to be of upper-middle class, the train was on time, there was ample space, and there was no sign of chickens or other animals. We later found out that the train company has been driving prices up in order to cater more to the wealthy tourists and less to the inhabitants of the region. The only spot we were able to get off the train for a short brake was at a vantage point known as El Divisadero. We stopped for 15 minutes and dropped our jaws at the view of the confluence of a few of the larger canyons. It was also a great spot to grab some cheap potato gorditas before getting back on the train.

After the five hour train ride we arrived in Creel. It was dark and cold when we arrived. At almost 8,000’ this is a cold alpine town. The station was crowded with train passengers and people soliciting for hotels and tours. We pushed through the crowd to find a hostel we read about. We grabbed the last available bed and Ilsa volunteered to sleep on a sleeping mat on the floor. It was a good deal because the rate included breakfast and dinner. The meals weren’t great for eating, but great for socializing with others from around the world. While eating and being serenaded by a two man mariachi band we made plans to do one of the tours around Creel. The next day we went on a tour with a few people from Chihuahua, a guy from Malaysia, and a guy from France. The tour went by a water fall, some old churches, and some peculiar rock formations. The tour was less than impressive, but at least we had a bottle of tequila to share.

We had originally planned on leaving from Creel to Batopilas down in the canyon. Unexpectedly, however, we were snowed in. The highways were closed! So, we moved from the cold drafty hostel to a guest house with a wood stove to make new plans. We ended up deciding to backtrack and go down into the canyon to the small town of Urique. This ended up being a great decision. While waiting for a bus that drove by without stopping we met another traveler, Jacob, from Berkely, CA. He had just spent a couple of weeks hiking through the canyon with two friends for a couple of weeks. It was a trek that definitely required great intention and preparation. The stories he recounted involved repelling, boulder hopping, sleeping in caves, and fording ice cold rivers. Due to injured ankles he hiked out before his friends who were still in the canyon. He ended up giving us a ride to get us closer to Urique.
Before we could leave to Urique we had to spend a night in another canyon rim town, Bahuichivo. We took a room that ended up being next to a huge party lasting most of the night. There was a quinceañera, a girl’s 15th birthday party. In Mexico this is a big deal. In Bahuichivo it meant drunken cowboy music and dancing for most of the night. After falling asleep with the music blasting I was awakened by the cries and screams of a small girl. I got dressed and went to investigate. I talked to the three year old girl through another hotel room door. I found out she was just alone and scared. I helped her put some warmer clothes on and took her to find her parents at the packed quinceañera party. With a happy kid and parents, I went back to sleep. The next day we had time for a nice hike before catching the bus to Urique.

The ride down into Urique was the craziest bus ride I’ve ever been on. This says a lot since I’ve bussed through much of Mexico and Guatemala. The road consisted of narrow switchbacks on a dirt road. Each turn offered a view into thousands of feet of abysmal doom. This would have been a very sobering experience had a vaquero, cowboy, not insisted I drink some beer on the bus with him. The beer seemed to help me accept whatever fate awaited us. We were able to watch the sun set and the moon rise all in the same descent. We did, surprisingly, make it to the bottom safe and sound. We took a room at a very nice and economical hotel with a talkative and inebriated owner, don Rafael. Many people in the town had been imbibing beer, sprits, and free tesquino as it was New Year’s Eve. There was a celebration in the center with more drunken cowboy music and dancing. We went to bed early, I guess, as the music didn’t stop until 5:30a.m. The next day we started a hike and people were still partying from the night before. Very friendly though! At the beginning or our hike we found a hostel we relocated to.

The hostel was started by three couples, and thus named Entre Amigos, or Between Friends. One owner was from Oregon and the rest from Chihuahua, Mex. It is located in a beautiful spot isolated from the town. It had several fruit trees and large organic gardens. At first it seemed like it would be expensive just to camp. Then we found out that the price included use of the gardens and a kitchen. We enjoyed being able to fuel some hiking with large salads, fresh greens, and ripe citrus fruit. We made a friend who was also camping there from Monterrey, Mex. named Obed. We invited him to hike with us to the nearby village of Guadalupe and we’re glad we did. He had been in this part of the canyon several times and shared with us many stories and local traditions. We got to know each other pretty well on the nine mile hike. He spoke perfect English much to Ilsa’s delight. Unfortunately he left early one morning before we could exchange contact info. I think he was scared off from shyness after making a pass at Ilsa. Ilsa was also sad he left unexpectedly.

Another long and hot hike took us to a magical arroyo. An arroyo is an intermittent river which ebbs and flows with precipitation. On another nine or so mile hike we went south of Urique to another small town called Guapalina. By the stares we received it was easy to deduce not many white people make it here. Luckily we were able to converse with locals and figure out how to navigate up the arroyo. At this point it was the middle of the day, hot, and we had run out of water. Eventually we made it past the houses to find an extensive aqueduct. There we drank and bathed in refreshingly cold mountain water. The aqueduct seems mainly used to irrigate many of the nearby cannabis gardens. Hiking further up the arroyo brought us to a massive isolated plateau at the edge of the canyon. At the base of the cliffs were some shallow caves adding to the majestic ambiance.

Hiking back from the arroyo we hitched a ride. This allowed us to get back in time to prepare food for a mini potluck. We organized a potluck with three of the hostel owners and another delightful couple from New Mexico we became acquainted with. It was quite a spread with marinated broiled chicken, salad and green beans from the garden, guacamole, sweet potato fries, and gingerbread with banana custard for dessert! While waiting for the bus out of El Fuerte I struck up a conversation with a local Rarámuri man. He shared some of his crop and invited us back to stay on his land in the magical arroyo we had found.

Urique was a great place to visit! We made many friends; locals and other travellers. We learned of the crazy 40-50 mile races traditional of the local Rarámuri indians. Races of extreme indurance the Rarámuri are genetically fit for. They invlove running non-stop, running through the night, bare foot running, and coordinated ball kicking all hot weather. The few conversations we had with Rarármuri men were very beautiful. The few we talked to had limited spanish, but enough to sense their respect for the beauty of nature and the pride of their endurance.

It took a whole day to bus and train back to El Fuerte where we left our truck. We were weary but had still intended on camping. At the train depot, however, we were met by a convincing hotel owner. He was trying to sell us on a five star room for $130 U.S.! I guess he liked us and was desperate for business because he ended up lowering the price to $27. For the three of us that was more agreeable with our budget. Los Torres was an amazing hotel to stay at and the elusive hot shower was definitely appreciated.

A couple of long days back in our truck have landed us in San Blas. We camped one night across from the large port city of Mazatlan. We watched the Baja Ferry and a cruise ship enter the harbor narrowly missing the sailboats at anchor. Now, we’re camped on a beach in the quiet surf town of San Blas. It’s not a main tourist season, so we’re pretty much alone on the beach with the hungry sand flies; known locally as Jejenes. If the tiny flies don’t devour us completely, we’ll be headed to Jalisco to visit friends. One friend is a mutual acquaintance of ours through Breitenbush. Jalisco is also the state I lived in for six months as an exchange student. I’m looking forward to catching up with some great folks there.