MEXICO.....
MEXICO.....
Barranca Del Cobre "Copper Canyon" Mexico
January 13, 1997
After two months of preparation we were ready to head to the "Copper Canyon" region of central Mexico. Hank was attracted to this area because of its unique landscape and its remoteness to any "civilized society". Barranca Del Cobre, or Copper Canyon as it is more commonly known, is a network of canyons deeper than the Grand Canyon yet not as wide on average making it truly breathtaking.
Two Land Rovers made the journey, first my brother in his 1994 Land Rover Defender 90 and me and my friend Berry in my sisters 1995 Land Rover Discovery.
We left San Diego, CA on a rainy January day and headed east towards Arizona. After several hours and miles of desert driving, we finally pulled off the road at a Rip Griffith Truck stop in Wilcox, Arizona. After dinner we were hoping to hit the road again but, according to the truckers, the highway was closed at the New Mexico State line because of icy roads and white-out conditions. Hesitantly we headed for the Best Western hotel to spend the night hoping the road would be opened the next morning.
Waking the next morning we decided to head south to miss the weather and cross into Mexico. Arriving in Douglas, Arizona, we filled up our jerry cans and the Rovers one last time before heading to the border checkpoint. As far as I can remember, you need a permit to take a vehicle into Mexico if you are going more than 75 miles south of the border area, and you also need the proper tourist visa to spend more than three days there. So, upon entering Mexico we parked and headed into the customs and immigration buildings. The people there were very courteous and helpful, although the soldiers guarding the building made it a bit unnerving. After a slight "delay" over the importation of our vehicles we were on our way to Chihuahua.
Waking in Chihuahua the next morning we were amazed just how big this city is. I don't know if you've ever driven in a large city south of the border but this was a new experience for us. Their basically is no concept of "lanes" and most traffic pretty much moves freely through the city wherever you need to go. The local drivers were surprisingly courteous and, eventually, we made it through the winding city streets, mazes of traffic and highway signs, luckily ending up on the highway to Creel. We spent most of the day driving through long stretches of open desert plains and over small mountain ranges, occasionally stopping for a cold Coke fresh from a glass bottle (it tastes so much better that way). One army checkpoint later we arrived in Creel. The army was noticeably present throughout this region. While we were there we found they were looking for drugs and weapons. A little nerve racking when an 18 year old jumps from his HMMWV and points his machine gun into the window of your car and starts talking to you in Spanish. Lucky for Hank and I, my friend Berry, who is fluent in Spanish, was there to help us with the language. Most of the army people we ran into were very nice, helping us out with directions and tips to stay safe in the area. Upon arriving in Creel, we were greeted by local children and a vendor selling fresh, hot tortillas which we happily purchased. Creel is the town where the famous Copper Canyon Railway leaves from. This train is a working freight and passenger train that has become quite a tourist attraction for its scenic ride through the canyons. Sitting down to dinner we were amazed at how many RV's were being loaded onto the train for the winding ride to the ocean. We finished the day driving to the small town of El Davisidero situated along the cliffs over looking the canyons.
Their are two nice hotels there and since we couldn't find a place to camp we settled in for the night at the El Castillo Hotel, an old castle-like hotel right on the canyon rim.
Rising early we headed down the road into the canyons. Using Hanks GPS we followed the maze of roads winding down along a small river. Stopping to check the coordinates north of San Raphael, we noticed the GPS was not agreeing with the Topo map we had for the area. It was just slightly off, but enough to concern us. While studying the map, two men came along in a Dodge pick-up and offered to help. Looking at the map only seemed to confuse them, they asked where we were heading and confirmed we were on the right road. I think after they left they were laughing at our "high-tech" mapping tools. Driving on these washed out dirt and rock covered roads can be quite tricky and the constant stream of beat up old logging trucks coming at us didn't help. It is a shame they are logging such a beautiful area but we have since learned the government is taking measures to limit the damage. Driving along this road also gave us our first glimpse of the Copper Canyon Railway. We only saw the train twice while driving through the canyons.
In every town we went through the local people were anxious to help us. At dusk we were searching for a hotel in the town of Ceracahui when a local boy came up to us and told us of the best place in town. It just so happened that his uncle owned the "hotel". Needless to say we opted not to stay there but found a nice looking place right near the old Mission. The hotel was called "Mission" and was an amazing place. We sat down to a home cooked meal that was better than anything I can remember anywhere. The atmosphere might have had something to do with it as the lights dimmed when the bar keep fired up the blender to make the worlds best Margaritas. We retired to our room, stacked the furnace with wood and started in on a game of cards just as the generator kicked off and out when the lights. It came back on at 7am the next morning. (funny how I remember those things) If you ever go to this area you must stay at this hotel. Hank was most impressed by its vehicle security, an 8-foot tall stone and cement wall with shards of broken glass sticking out from the top of it. The hotel staff promised us our vehicles would be safe, and they were right.
After a pancake breakfast it was time to hit the road and head for our first lower canyon town, Urique. Up until this point we were mostly driving along the rim of the canyons. The locals told us this was an amazing drive and they weren't kidding. Climbing out of Cerocahui it didn't take more than 30 minutes to find the canyon rim and begin our descent into the river valley below. The Urique river snakes its way through the main canyon and can swell quite high during the rainy season. Just as we began our descent we ran into our first obstacle. A 70's era Ford pick-up, loaded with three horned cows in the bed, was blocking the road. It seems he was out of gas. So, taking a can from the back of the 90 we gave him enough to get to town and after many thanks we were back on our way. We joked for hours after about the gas in the cans. It was Texaco Premium, a far cry from the Pemex fuel native to the area, and no doubt his Ford had never ran better. The views were absolutely incredible. Imagine a Grand Canyon that you could drive into, has next to no traffic, and no RVs.
At the bottom of the canyon we ran into our second obstacle. Another pick-up truck had lost control and smashed into the cliff wall. With four people in the cab, and about 15 in the back, and judging by the shape the pick-up was in, we weren't surprised. The truck was blocking the road so we decided to see if we could lend a hand. The left front fender was crushed into the tire making it un-drivable. After a few minutes, Hank decided we should hook the winch hook around the fender and pull it free from the tire. So, using the 8000lbs winch on the Disco, we tugged the fender away from tire much to the amusement of the crowd. We reached the town of Urique minutes later.
We spent the next 2 days in Urique at a beautiful campsite on the rivers edge. Camping in Copper Canyon can be tricky since most of the land is private and you need the permission of the owner to camp there. While we were in town we met one of the men that helped us with directions a few days ago. His name was Hielbierto. He offered his help finding a campsite, eventually talking his friend into letting us camp on the river bank just below his house. We were amazed at how nice the local people were.
Later that night Hielbierto came back with his brother and brought us a six pack of local beer. We didn't realize just how nice this was until we found out later that Urique is a dry town. The next morning we were awoken by rustling outside our tent. Berry opened the rain fly to find 4 young children checking out our camping supplies. They were most amazed at our folding camping chairs, tents, and freeze dried food we had been living on. This was our first real insight into the way the Tarahumara people live. We spent the rest of the day walking around the town, taking photos, and absorbing the local culture. You have to be very careful taking pictures as the local people do not like to be photographed, although a few pesos seemed to help. After walking around town we decided to drive further into the canyon to the town of Guapalina, a very small village at the very end of the road. We tried to drive further but were told it was a "donkey track" only. We weren't going to argue.
Today we headed back to Creel. We wanted to explore the other side of the canyon and the city of Batopilas, and going back through Creel was the only way, unless we traded the Rovers for Donkeys. It was a shorter drive back to Creel seeing we had already done the trek and didn't run into any traffic this time. Fueling up in Creel at the local Pemex station, we again headed to the El Castillo hotel in El Davisidero for the night. It was a welcome sight after 3 nights of dusty camping.
It took about 5 hours to drive to Batopilas from Creel, down twisting paved roads, rough dirt tracks, and blind switchbacks. It was even more beautiful than the drive to Urique. The canyon walls were much steeper and the climate became almost tropical. One of our favorite obstacles on the trip was the infamous "railway tie bridge". Hank went across first on foot to check it out and I'm sure in retrospect that it was quite strong. It sure didn't feel that way as we gave the Rovers some "wellie" while the bridge flexed down and sideways underneath. It's like driving in deep mud, the tires just went wherever they wanted. A bit scary to say the least.
Stopping along the way for an icy-cold bottled Coke, we meet a couple from Iowa who had moved there about 5 years before. They told us of a beautiful place to camp right along the river just a few miles from Batopilas. It was easy to spot and truly was amazing. We spent a few hours in Batopilas. It was a small Tarahumara town with many craft type shops and several local bars. While setting up camp, a couple of local farmers came across the road from their home to see what we were up to. After showing us the finer points of using an axe to chop fire wood, they ended up staying for dinner and were treated to our freeze dried specialties. After reading about these special sandals that the Tarahumarans wear we knew that we had to get a pair. We asked Miguel (one of our dinner guests) if he knew where we could get them. He said he could make us some if we drove him into town to get the supplies he would need.
The next day we drove him to his girlfriends place and spent the next few hours walking around the town. When we picked up Miguel later, he had some leather strands and an old spare tire with no rim. Puzzled, we drove back to our campsite. Miguel came over with us, measured our feet and cut our sandals out of the tire and used the leather to strap them to our feet. They truly are amazing. I think they are Goodyear's so they should last forever, or at least 60k miles. We had heard this area was known for its Marijuana crops but had not seen them. We did find some small plants resembling them on the river bank near our camp. The seeds may have drifted down stream only to come to rest in a quiet spot right near our camp.
Leaving Batopilas we headed for the town of Bassaschi, well known for its stunning waterfall. It was about 100 miles west of Creel so we had a long day ahead of us. The drive out of the canyon was quite rough in places but truly no match for the Land Rovers. Hanks D90 was carrying most of the weight and handled it with ease.
Following our map to the letter, their was no possible way we could get lost. Well, in fairness to our navigational abilities we turned the right direction, only on the road to Bassachic, not Bassaschi. So, after many miles of terrible roads we stopped to consult our trusty GPS. We seemed to be on the wrong road but heading the right direction. We figured the road, and I use that term lightly, would end up near where we wanted to be, so we pressed on. It took us nearly 4 hours to do 22 miles. The road became unbearably rough. The switchbacks took three or four turns to make it around and the road just kept getting worse. It was beautiful and I think that was spurring us on further. We ended up turning around a few miles later when the road basically disappeared down a long, dark, rocky path to nowhere. Driving late into the night we finally arrived at 1am, tired, cold (the temperature was well below freezing at this altitude) and cranky. We retired to a "shack" near the waterfall, fired up the wood stove and waited until morning. We've laughed about that night many times since then, I can't remember ever being so cold. The wood ran out a few hours later and the heat about 20 minutes after that. We had the stove glowing red but it was no match for the dry cold air.
Rising very early to escape the cold we were met by Willy, the waterfall tour guide dog. Willy hangs around until people gather to walk to the falls about a mile from the cabins. Once we got going Willy would walk along in front of us and take us directly to the falls. The falls were spectacular. We were at the top of the falls so it was hard to take in the whole area but they must drop several hundred feet to the canyon below. We joked about the fencing keeping you away from the edge. If this had been in Canada or the USA, they wouldn't let you near the edge. One of the many things we love about Mexico. We spent the rest of the day making our way back towards the border, spending our last night in Mexico in Hermisllio. The next day we crossed the border at Nogales and headed back towards San Diego. It was roughly a 7-hour drive home.
