1996 Mexico Copper Canyon by Travel Gals

GETTING THERE

By Bus

The trip started at 5:00 a.m. in Jacksonville with a flight to Dallas/Fort Worth and then a bus ride across the border into the state of Chihuahua at Juarez. We got no sense of the size or appearance of either El Paso or Juarez because we really saw only the airport and the border crossing. We were able to exchange money in Juarez where we discovered that the exchange rate was 7.56 pesos to one US dollar.

The bus was a comfortable Mercedes van with movies and a toilet on board. Those were good amenities since the ride was long and tedious. The Chihuahua desert is not picturesque when seen from the highway we were using. Arid seems like too timid a word for the wasteland we travelled. There were parched hills and even drier mountains along the way. When a tiny patch of green appeared on the horizon, we were thrilled to see it.

The further we drove, the more elevation we made and that improved the land considerably. We saw more greenery and the mountains looked more rugged with sharper peaks. The desert finally morphed into open grasslands but there still wasn’t much life of any kind to see. There were some cows and horses but no people around to feed or tend them and they were poor specimens of their species because they were so bony and listless. We wondered if there was any water source available to them.

Despite the aridity and plain poverty, the day itself was beautiful with a bright blue sky dotted with puffy white clouds. As we got nearer to the town of Chihuahua, the clouds darkened, and it appeared to be threatening rain but unfortunately not a drop ever fell. Though all the small villages we had passed were poor and sad, the town of Chihuahua was clearly more prosperous and larger. There were factories and stores and an impressive downtown with a beautiful old Spanish Style church anchoring the plaza.

The Holiday Inn we stayed in was clean, comfortable and provided a very good supper and we were really hungry since we had had no lunch and very few snacks. We met our young red-haired guide, Aine, who hailed from Eureka, CA, and spoke fluent Spanish and English too, of course.

Fernando was another guide and he felt it necessary to explain to us at breakfast why it was right that a popular presidential candidate had been recently assassinated. The man’s wife was quite ill and would not be able to serve as a “first lady” so his candidacy was already a selfish one. The theory was that should his wife die after he was elected, it would be totally unseemly should he remarry quickly in order to bring a first lady into the Presidential residence. To Fernando, this meant that he should withdraw from the race

because his wife’s serious illness was a warning sign from above. At first, we thought he was joking, but further questioning revealed that he was dead serious. Since the man would not retire from running, then it was okay that someone took it upon himself to remove him violently. Strange politics. As it t turned out, the unfortunate woman did pass away about a year and a half later.

By Train

We got to bed about 11 p.m. and were up the next morning about 5:30 to be in the lobby by 6:30 for breakfast. The Chepe Train (that word does not translate into “cheap) lefeetfor Creel at 7:00 and we could not be late. We arrived in Creel at 12:30 p.m. The train ride was similar to the bus ride in that we saw mostly dry and barren country with some poor villages sprinkled along the way.

At last, we started climbing higher and that meant we were leaving the high desert habitat and entering an area where crops could be grown and where there was vegetation all around. The main crops were corn and beans but interspersed around the area were groves of pecans, peaches, pears and apples. Now we were in the Sierra Madre Mountains. The little towns were touchingly poor but each one had a church or chapel at its center.

The train followed the route of a river below us, but we could not really catch any glimpses of canyon depths. The train cars were nice enough and there was a fairly clean toilet in each car. The windows were covered with so much dust, it was difficult to see anything outside. We made do and welcomed each time we got a look at anything outside. Our guide Aine kept us company, but it was clear that she was under the weather (dolor del estamogo) she said. Maybe a more familiar name for the malady is “turista” which most visitors to Mexico experience at least once and usually more often.

THE TOWN OF CREEL

We disembarked the train in Creel and went to our huge hotel room with 5 beds. (Remember, they had planned for 5 travelers in our party). We dumped all our stuff on the beds and headed outside to walk up to the Christ statue 400 feet above the town. The city’s altitude is 7,640 feet (about twice the height of the Burj Khalifa, the tallest building in the world) but at the statue we were at 8000 feet(about the height of Mount St. Helens) and all three of us felt the effect.

However, we enjoyed our lunch at the Veronica Restaurant: we had choices between hamburgers, enchiladas, picadillo with Cokes and Fantas to drink. It was all quite tasty. Afterwards, we took a brief orientation walk around Creel and then headed for some rest in the big hotel room.

Hard to believe but we met Aine at 7 p.m. for yet another meal (dinner this time). We ate broccoli soup (surprisingly tasty along with some pizza slices. Dessert was strawberry ice cream. Everything was accompanied by copious tea and sofeetdrinks. Stay hydrated was the advice. At dinner we met our two fellow travelers: Bob and Larry who were celebrating 40 years of friendship by booking this adventure.

They had traveled from Santa Fe and San Francisco and met in Los Mochis where they boarded the train. After some small talk and tentative attempts at something more meaningful, we realized that we had enough in common to delve into politics (all very friendly and on the same page really), past travels, professions, music and other interests. We learned that Larry conducts a Choral Society group in Santa Fe. Bob joined us for another walk around the city after dinner. Many more people on the streets than had been true in the afternoon. All the restaurants, bars, grocery stores, pharmacies seemed to be open as well. By 8:30 p.m. we were back in the hotel, cleaned up and ready to sleep. Pat had an uncomfortable altitude headache by bedtime and so did I.

Monday started off with a leisurely breakfast and then we tried to exchange some large bill pesos to smaller ones, but the bank ran out of small bills, so we were stuck with too many large denominations. Then we boarded our bus to visit some waterfalls in the area. We ended up in a van by ourselves because we could stay out until 4 p.m. and the other tourists had to be back by 2 p.m.

We stopped for a look at the waterfalls, but they were not very impressive; they were certainly not the really tall ones advertised as being in the canyons. However, the walk of about one and a half miles both ways was splendid. It was mostly flat, and we all felt okay with the altitude until we had to climb back up. Going down, we had not noticed the up and down of the trail. While on the trail we saw several varieties of lizards, a foot long, pencil thin snake which the guide said was not poisonous, several birds including a woodpecker and vultures floating overhead. The walk followed the river and occasionally opened up some beautiful views of the surrounding craggy mountains. Saw some lakes that were the reservoirs for the towns and that was a relief after seeing so much arid countryside.

Then we went to Cusarare to visit an old Jesuit mission built in 1705 and rebuilt in 1972. It was very like ones we have seen in Texas and New Mexico. Simple construction and inside this one was the shrine of Guadalupe above the picture of Christ over the altar. It was a very poor village with joyless faces on the people we saw, both adults and children. Their crop of corn looked spindly and sickly, but we wondered how it could be otherwise with such stony dry ground as a base.

Back to Creel around 4 p.m. where we drank copious amounts of Fanta and Cokes. We wandered around the city again trying to find some film for the camera. The only film

available was Fuji so we bought some rolls at a higher price than at home. Back to the hotel to read the local newspaper: El Heraldo. We made some sense of it anyway. Dinner was delicious again and we celebrated having such a wonderful day.

BUS TO BATOPILAS

On October 8 (the next day) we awoke early, too early for breakfast, because of a puppy serenade. The dogs barked incessantly and in a surprisingly cadenced rhythm. The chorus did make it hard to sleep once the serenade began. Bark, bark, bark in descending tones and then bark bark bark as they went back up the scale. Guess we should have been appreciative of the musicality of the performance.

After breakfast, we boarded a Suburban van for the ride from Creel to Batopilas where our exploration of the canyon would begin. It was hot in the van, but the seating was comfortable: 2 in front, 3 in the middle and 2 in the back. Pete was a cautious driver which we would have appreciated even more had we known that this road is called the “Death Road” because it is so steep, full of hairpin turns, switchbacks, sandy slippery surface, no guard rails, blind corners with no warning signs of any kind.

As we peered out the dusty windows at the rugged and lonesome terrain, we wondered what would happen if you became stranded, or had an accident of some kind. There were

a few sad villages along the way where the Tarahumara Indians were living primitively. And of course, there was no such thing as cellphones to call for help.

This sometimes terrifying ride took a total of 6 hours to complete. Along the way, we experienced a flat tire and a couple of “nature stops”. We also had a boxed lunch during an ill-fated stop. The lunch was fine but where we stopped was rife with some biting insects that we could not see at the time. Kay sat under a tree for shade and was really chewed on without knowing it at the time.

Scary Guys with Guns

The most terrifying part of the ride on the Death Road however occurred about halfway down the long descent. Around one of the hairpin turns came a large truck filled with several men who presented themselves as “federales” checking our documents. They carried big guns and did not appear friendly. Pete warned us all to remain absolutely quiet, no comments or questions, as he negotiated what appeared to be a bribe to allow us to move on. We will never know where he got the money because he did not ask us for anything or discuss the entire incident with us at all.

Feeling quite rattled, we continued on down the bumpy, narrow, and slippery road. The rock formations were impressive because they were so massive. Most of them were formed, according to Pete, by volcanic tuff, so their surfaces were deceptively grainy despite their “soft” appearance. Towards the end of the wild ride, we ran alongside the Batopilas River though we were above it.

BOTTOM OF THE COPPER CANYON

We arrived at Mary’s Hotel, which appeared to be rather dated. While we were checked in, we sat in a courtyard under the cover of rubber and citrus trees. At 4:30, we took a short walk around the tiny town of Batopilas. It had once been an important center because of very successful silver mining. As a matter of interesting fact, this tiny remote city was the Country’s second, after Mexico City, to receive electricity.

Alexander Shepherd, a former mayor of Washington D.C. was the founder of this little town. He recognized the richness of the silver lodes and the wealth that promised. Today, though there is still silver in the canyon, Batopilas is a bedraggled ghost of its former self. The town is formed by about a mile & a half straight road through the center. There are raised sidewalks for some reason which we never learned. But after we saw the river close up, we thought it might be because of periodic flooding. There are a couple of restaurants, a bank and a post office and a couple of other hotels all spread on either side of the main (and indeed only) street. There is a central upraised concrete plaza which is used as a

basketball court and a dance floor or for any other civic event. The buildings appear to be whitewashed and there is very little color, except for some red tiling on the occasional rooftop.

There is an attractive small church right across the street from our hotel which we wanted to enter because it looked like it might be cool inside. The outside is painted a bright white, so it probably does a good job of reflecting the bright sunlight back into the sky rather than absorbing its heat into the walls. That was our hope anyway. But the church was locked up.

The mountains around and the river hem the little city in and there is nowhere to go except by lengthening the road, but there seems no reason to do that. We learned quickly that though Batopilas had gotten electrified early in its history, it is no longer fully electrified. We were told that we would have electricity only between certain hours, not all day. That was depressing because it is quite hot, and the feeble overhead fan will go off at about 10 p.m. probably when we would need it most since the temperatures don't go down appreciably just because night falls.

As we ambled around the town, we did see several Tarahumara men dressed in their traditional clothing, but we saw no women who might have been members of those indigenous peoples.

There were many currish dogs all over that seemed to just wander freely. None of them looked particularly well-fed and most seemed to be related to one another because all of them had the same light brown coat color and were about the same size.

Mary’s Hotel

Our first night at Mary’s Hotel began with a decent tasty, if very greasy, dinner but I don’t recall the ingredients of the meal. The bath room was down an outside hallway and was shared by several rooms, most of which were occupied. The shower water was only as warm as the ambient air but that was okay because we didn’t want to get under a hot shower anyway. We had been warned not to drink any of the water unless it was bottled so it was important not to let any water enter your mouth during showering and hair washing. Not very convenient but tolerable.

Because of the electricity outages, we had very dim light in the room until it turned off. So, it was important to get clothes laid out for the morning and do anything (like removing my contact lenses) that require light as quickly as possible. The rooms opened onto that hallway down to the bathroom and opening our front door supplied the only natural light during the day. There was no window in the very small room.

That first night revealed to Kay a real misery. At the Death Road lunch stop, she had sat under a low bush for shade and that’s when the invisible, but vicious biting insects, had made a meal off her. The unrelenting heat in the room caused her to begin to itch and burn intensely. We had some lotion to apply but that almost meant bathing her in the salve. The only place she could find relief was in the cold shower and she couldn't stay there all night. She got very little sleep and was hideously uncomfortable. The little room was like a sauna constantly ejecting hot steam. To make matters worse, we were kept awake by continuous loud bumps again the wall we shared with the next room. Children or inconsiderate adults were clearly playing handball against that very wall and they seemed tireless and didn’t stop for hours. Try to sleep in a sauna, with frantic scratching, no air

movement at all, and having one wall banging all the time! We would have welcomed a chorus of barking dogs if an exchange could have been arranged.

The Satevó Mission

The first full day in Batopilas started for us at 8 the next morning (October 9). We met to take a walk downriver to a shrine (about 3 miles away). The weather remained cool until the sun finally climbed over the rim of the bluffs overhanging the canyon. The shores of the river were shingled with small stones and the uplands began to be filled with green plants and trees. So much prettier than the lifeless desert lands we had been traversing. Many flowers were also blooming brightly.

And we could see the shrine when we were still far away from it. It sported a rounded roof, with a taller square tower on one side and two shorter ones on the opposite side. Acacia trees filled the courtyard. There was a statue of Jesus just before we reached the courtyard. It was strange in that there was an odd projection from the statue’s head. We couldn’t tell what that was supposed to stand for: maybe the sacred heart or holy fire? Our guide could not enlighten us.

The shrine was locked because the earlier guide had forgotten to leave the key in the secret appointed place. The door had sufficient cracks that we could peek into and see how spare the rooms were. The Virgin of Guadalupe held pride of place over the altar. A little troubling was the fact that the arch where the keystone should have fit was empty.

Luckily, we were treated to a ride back to Batopilas so the walk did not turn into 6 miles total. The path was straight and flat, so it was not a difficult hike even with only sandals on, but it might have been had we needed to walk all the way back. We stopped at the shop of the local silversmith and got some pretty earrings for Betsy’s birthday mined and hand fashioned in beautiful downtown Batopilas.

After lunch, we had another ride down to the local swimming hole, which was a shallow spot along the Batopilas River. Some tourists went swimming but Pat, Kay and I did not. Kay did wade in deep enough to wash out her clothes which were very sweaty from the hike. While we were sitting on the shore, I struck up a conversation with the fellow I thought was our guide. Luckily my Spanish was so poor that he didn’t understand much of what I struggled to say. Since what I was trying to say was that I liked him better than our other guide, it was very good that he didn’t understand. When he abruptly called his group that it was time to get back in the car, I realized my mistake. I had wondered why he kept looking at me with a peculiar expression on his face, and now I knew why. I was halfway between abject embarrassment and total hilarity that I laughed so hard climbing up from the shore to the street that I could scarcely put one foot in front of the other. I was very grateful that I never saw that person again.

No Hiking

We had been wondering why we were not being led on hikes up onto the canyon walls on some of the trails we had read about before booking the trip. On this day, we learned that there would be no hiking at all up the walls or around in the canyons. Why Not? We were informed that there were so many marijuana farms up inside the canyon as well as some other drug forming plants that they are guarded day and night by guards who shoot anyone who wanders into one of the groves, even if it by mistake. Thus, we knew now that we were confined to walking up and down the main street of this town for the rest of our time in Batopilas. What a colossal let-down. Our whole reason for booking the trip had been to hike in the Copper Canyon. Needless to say, the guide was completely serious when he told us. And he warned us equally gravely not to try it on our own thinking we could get away with just walking partway up a trail. Disappointed though we were, we were not stupid or arrogant enough to ignore his grim warning.

WHAT TO DO?

Now we had to figure out what we could do to amuse ourselves in this town which had morphed into a truly boring and very hot little prison. There was certainly no way we could arrange to get out of the canyon earlier than our “adventure” called for. Who would want to drive us back up the Death Road when we had so little money to hire anyone. And how would we know if the person was a good driver or an honest person? We just had to relax and “go with the flow” as the saying goes. Other things would also begin to make this trip even more miserable for us. The worst was the bouts of turista that overtook us even though we thought we were being very careful about what we ate and drank. Kay and I were hardest hit since we probably are more adventurous about eating than Pat. She doesn’t really like Mexican food and wisely chose only fully cooked foods, ate nothing raw or fresh, and drank only bottled drinks like Coca Cola, water and beer (Dos Ekes brand). Smart traveler she turned out to be.

Dinner Out

The night after we learned about the no hiking from Batopilas, we were taken for dinner to a private home. Dona Micaela served delicious food on her front porch. Pat refused everything offered except for a lentil soup which was piping hot when served. Kay and I rashly ate a few of her other offerings: beans, cabbage, corn, some mystery meat but everything was delicious.

Fiesta

After this dinner, our entertainment was to be attending the local fiesta which would include music, dancing, street foods, and even some group singing. The fiesta would be held on the raised basketball court, and we were assured the streets and the platform would be filled with the locals who would be dressed in traditional costumes and finery.

Well, that fiesta (a total misnomer if a fiesta is supposed to be a happy party) was something for the sociologists to explain. There were plenty of folks on the stage and lots of loud music. Chaperones sat all around the stage to make sure that there were no untoward behaviors during the dances at least that’s what we surmised. The fellows and gals paired off and began to dance, if you can call the slow jerky movements they were making “dancing.” But the most amazing thing about the dance was there was never a smile on any face not the dancers and certainly not the duenas (chaperones). There was also no observable conversation going on between the dancing couples or among the older ladies with their grim faces.

When the music stopped between pieces, the couples broke apart and exchanged places, so they were dancing with someone else. Ah! We thought—now maybe they get to choose the person they really want to dance with, and we will see some happy faces and lots of laughter. No indeed, nothing of the sort happened. No matter how many dance partners changed, there was never a smile or a laugh. It was the saddest excuse for a party any of us had ever seen. The young couples looked bored and finally miserable while the older women looked vigilant and suspicious. We decided to leave early because it was all so unhappy looking. Because the Hotel Mary is fairly close to the platform, we knew that the fiesta continued for several hours after we left. We could only hope that things livened up a bit later but a couple of tourists who stayed longer than we did reported that the mood did not change while they lingered on another hour or so.

Turista Strikes

On the day after the fiesta, we tried walking around town again, but it was so hot and dusty that Pat and Lois decided to return to the Mary Hotel. Lois was beginning to feel like turista was about to set in and didn’t want to be far from the bathroom. Kay said she felt okay and was going to keep walking and looking a little while longer. Maybe an hour later, she appeared in the doorway of our hot room, looking pale with a greenish tinge. She could hardly stand up and landed face first on the bed in a semi stupor. We then learned that she had walked a bit on the raised sidewalks of the town and became dizzy, flushed and so sick she fell partway into the gutter in front of the raised sidewalk and began to have projectile vomiting.

There were men seated against the shop walls on the raised sidewalk and they did not react at all. So, she lay there in the gutter until the vomiting stopped and tried to stand up. That proved to be extremely difficult, but she finally got to her feet and staggered the rest of the way to the hotel. When she could think clearly, she decided that the completely unhelpful men probably thought she had drunk too much tequila at the previous night’s fiesta and was paying the price, so they were not motivated to help her even a l little bit. What a horrible experience for her (actually she never drinks alcohol ever) but we knew that it was the dreaded Montezuma's Revenge that had felled her.

That night while we tried to sleep, it was even more impossible. The family next door kept coming and going out the doors and rollerbladed down the hall leading to the restroom. When they became bored with that activity, they bounded hard balls against the wall between our room and theirs. The adults seemed to have imbibed whatever alcohol they found because they grew louder and more foul-mouthed. Pat had some Benadryl ointment and Kay used most of it trying to keep her continuing itching calmed down. But the heat only made everything about the night worse.

Are you beginning to understand why this trip was our most unfavorite trip ever?

The next morning, we all felt pretty creaky and did not want to eat anything for fear of starting the vomiting and diarrhea again. Tried to swallow some scrambled eggs but they didn’t go down well so we stopped and just tried to rehydrate with bottled water and some watery hot tea. Today was our planned walk to see the ruins of Mr. Shepherd’s hacienda from when he founded the town. That required that we walk across a bridge to arrive at the other side of the Batopilas River. It might have been fun had we not still felt so icky. It was amusing to see contradictory signs at the entrance to the bridge. There was a sign which said that the population of the city is 1,140 but a little further along on the bridge, it was announced that the population is 1,120. We think we know what happened to the missing 20 people.

They either died of boredom or the dread Montezuma’s Revenge. The other pair of signs reported the altitude of Batopilas as 556 feet but the second one said that the altitude is 448 ft. We think we can explain this difference too. When the 20 missing people left the area, the altitude switched due to the change in weight on the land.

Mr. Shepherd’s home and silver operation was quite impressive. He came to Batopilas in 1902 and established his own foundry, mining business, a three story office building, stables and a fine home for himself.

The whole property was serviced by a sophisticated sewage system which carried waste from his property to the Batopilas River. Maybe that’s what killed off the 20 missing people, but one would think that if the river was that contaminated, more citizens would be missing.

All of these structures are now mere ruins, but one of the mine entrances provided Kay and I with a private spot for our own waste disposal. We were increasingly sick during the exploration of the Shepherd silver empire, so we hurried back to the Mary Hotel where we had a good supply of Imodium, Cipro and Pepto-Bismol. After dosing ourselves up, we tried to relax in our sauna room and hoped that the medicines would work quickly.

I recovered fairly fast and was able to go with Pat to a little shop to buy some souvenirs for Sharon and Betsy who were already blessed because they had not been able to join us on this awful adventure.

Then it was time for supper again and we were to go to another senora’s home for a private dinner. We hated to think that maybe Dona Mica’s meal would recreate the problems we got from Dona Micaelas’ supper. We ate only hot soup and drank bottled drinks. The good Senora’s grandson played the guitar for us and sang as well but not well. One of his song choices was “Row Row Row your Boat. Poor Larry was beside himself because he so wanted to give the young man some pointers on how to improve his technique. But our guide Aine told him he absolutely could not discuss anything like that with young man.

Kay was still way too sick to join us for that supper, but we found some Pedialyte in the local Pharmacy and brought her a cocktail of that medicine along with more toilet paper to prepare for the onslaught we feared.

When Friday, October 12 dawned, we were all miraculously cured and felt so much better. But the night had not passed all that well. So much noise coming from everywhere. Once we were even frightened by three men shining their flashlight right into our tiny room and asking each other if this is the room where the three gringas (USA women) were staying? I feared the worst, but the men moved on after their discussion. But the racket and the boisterousness went on all night.

This was to be our last day in Batopilas and we were so ready to leave this miserable little lost and forgotten town at the bottom of the Copper Canyon below Creel, Mexico, via the Death Road. The high walls of the canyon seemed bent on keeping the sun from peeking over the horizon but at last the it won the battle and light began to pour into the canyon.

We sped around the little room getting dressed and packed and ready to leave. We had breakfast of eggs Mexican style and had high hopes that everything would settle down and we would have no problems on the perilous Death Road back to Creel. It was very hot already, so we sat in the little Catholic Church where it was a tiny bit cooler and blessedly out of sun.

At last, we heard Aine and Pete discussing a departure time after he repaired a flat tire. We finally left Batopilas with no farewell tears at 12:30 to start up the awful Death Road. We had been told we would start back at 9:30 but that flat tire erased that idea. Surprisingly, the ride back up the road took less time than rocketing down it had taken. So, we arrived in Creel at 4:30 after just 4 ½ hours of driving. No lunch was supplied so there were no stops along the way that may explain why it took less time. And maybe not being stopped by the federales also helped us get back quicker. The ride was not pleasant however because the van was so hot, and the windows needed to be kept closed because of the awful dust storm we were raising.

Believe it or not, getting back to Creel seemed like a wonderful homecoming after the nightmare of Batopilas.

So, what did we do from Creel until time to fly home?

We went straight to our hotel room so that we could take showers and “wash that place right out of our hair” and send it out of our thoughts. We were also very hungry after no lunch on the Death Road, so we eagerly met everyone at Margarita’s restaurant and ate heartily of the delicious and hopefully safe dishes on offer. We slept better that night than we had in days because it was so cool and quiet in our room, qualities we had really missed in Batopilas. We also slept late which was unusual too. Breakfast at the Margarita was again enjoyable and so much better than in the canyon.

When we ventured out into the streets of Creel, we found that everyone was busily engaged in getting ready for the annual “Concurso de Artesianos of Chihuahua”. Grass was being cut (with shovels no less, flowers were being planted, banners were being hung, shops were changing their window decorations, signage was going up. Little kiosks were being set up and stocked with all manner of trinkets, handicrafts, clothing, jewelry, paintings, baskets and other wonderful handcrafts. The police were out in force making sure that all the rules were being followed. No thievery was tolerated from the shopkeepers or kiosk owners. We bought a Tarahumara purse and all of us put money in to reward The Tarahumara Innocente who was so furious because he thought he had been stiffed despite all the cooperation he had given to the group and our guides. Aine promised that the purse with the money inside would reach him. Pat, Kay and I were really unaware of all this drama, but we contributed anyway.

HEADING HOME

Next, we boarded the regular Creel to Chihuahua bus (no toilet) for a 4 ½ hour trip to view the canyons from the rims. The ride was not too scary and some of the views were spectacular, much more impressive than being down in the canyon. We viewed wide expanses of fruit trees, desolate, rugged cliffs and bluffs. Mostly, the area looks most inhospitable to human communities.

Again, there was no food offered on the long trip, except we had bought some potato chips in Creel, figuring there would be no food. The outskirts of the city were very poor but as we neared the central part of the city, it seemed more prosperous. We got off the bus in front of the Holiday Inn and settled in for a short while. We were all hungry, so we went to the Casa Club for a light snack, all of which was centered around potatoes served in many different ways: fried, baked, boiled, and mashed. They did offer a pretty good ham sandwich and we all enjoyed that as a change from Mexican food.

When we finished eating and felt a spurt of energy, we joined Bob and Larry for a cab ride to the Cathedral Plaza. The church itself is in the Chiurresque style, thus quite ornate. As we hung around the Plaza we found ourselves once again in the midst of an impending fiesta. This one was celebrating “La Dia de la Raza” (the Mexican people themselves). And it was much larger and merrier than what we saw in Batopilas. People were dressed in their finery, laughing and talking together.

Some young fellows were dressed as conquistadores with aluminum helmets and cuirasses. Strange to see them celebrating the conquerors, but we learned that the occasion was also celebrating Colombus’ birthday. Still seemed odd since he was the first of Latin American’s problems with Spanish conquest and occupations. But everyone was good hearted and happy to be dancing, singing, smiling and parading around the Plaza.

Once we had seen enough, we ran into a supermarket to buy food and drinks for our long ride back to El Paso. At 8 pm we were joined by Aine for a farewell dinner and the food was more American USA style than Mexican: beef kabobs, baked potatoes, salad with cucumbers and carrots, soup and lots of rounds of beer and wine. A pleasant ending to our least favorite trip.

The bus to Juarez and El Paso was due to leave at 8:00 a.m. and we wanted to get some sleep before embarking on yet another long and boring ride through the desert areas of Mexico. The trip back was as expected but we survived it and we found the border crossing through customs to be a joke. The official asked our driver where we had come from and if we had anything to declare. He told him that we had from Batopilas via Chihuahua City and Juarez with no contraband. His word was quickly accepted, and we were on our way to El Paso Airport.

We waited around as we all boarded our flights to homes in different parts of the USA. While we waited, I wrote a list of Travel Dos/Don’ts that would probably apply to all our future travel plans.

The first and most important is:

1. Do not travel anywhere that takes longer to reach than you want to stay! Batopilas and the unhikeable Copper Canyon are the epitome of that axiom!

2. Do not travel if the formula X=Y translates to food equals sick equals near death experience

3. Avoid countries where Size XXX clothing wouldn’t fit your 6 year old nephew

4. Do go to countries where you can safely drink the water.

5. Avoid anywhere you have to use a flashlight to reach the bathroom at night.

6. Do not go to countries where there is no wildlife because it has all been eaten by the local human population.

7. Avoid countries where chicken wire is used to keep out insects

8. Do not visit countries where there are more than 10 hungry dogs in every alley

CONCLUSION

Since that list of travel warnings sums up nicely everything wrong with our trip to the Copper Canyon and Batopilas, I think a more formal sum up is unnecessary. However, do not decide you had better not visit these places because this trip happened in 1996 and I am writing it up in 2023 (27 years later) using the diary I wrote as we travelled back then. So many things have changed in adventure travel today and companies have become much more organized and knowledgeable about where they offer trips. So, do your own research and go anywhere your wanderlust wants to lead you.

After all is said and done, we survived this trip, and it has left us with many funny stories to tell and laugh about. That old saying about having good stories to tell friends and new acquaintances gets you a lot of invitations to dinner is still true even today!

1996 Mexico Copper Canyon

Copper Canyon 1996

THE COPPER CANYON MISADVENTURE

INTRODUCTION