Copper Canyon - A horse called Dollar

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I look up from my book to see at M16 pointed at my knee. A cast a concerned look up further and see that it is hanging off the back of one of the train guards. He smiles at my stupid, tired and starled face. 'Hola' In say.

The views from the train are stunnningly beautiful as it winds it's way slowly through valleys, past cliff faces and lakes. The train follows a gurggeling, bolder strewn, tree lined river. We drink beer, laugh and take it all in.

Arriving at Pasado Barrancas at 3 pm, an hour later than expected. The hotel is perched on the edge of Copper Canyon. The dinning room and bedrooms afford fantastic views of the jagged, cragged, dirt, dust, rocks and trees that extend over the horrizon. Tiny farm shacks dot the valley and cliff faces, homes to people running ranches and living in this beautiful landscape. We eat then sleep then get up and eat again. I throw some logs on the fire and I find a guitar to strum. We sip wine and look into the flames. The air is cool and fresh. We are snug and warm in the twinkle of christmas lights and glow of a real fire.

The next morning we go on a horse ride around the Canyon. The horses are waiting with a guide. There is no instruction and no safty gear. We set off after exchanging a few pleasantries with the guide about the weather, how British. I ride a ginger buscuit coloured mare called Dollar. Louise is on a horse called Nobel. They are great charcectors. Dollar insists on taking the lead and cuts up Nobel if she tries to pass and trotts on if she felt Nobel too close behind. Nobel wants to take the lead and keeps butting Dollar with her nose and snorting. Dollar takes some unusual roots around obsticals going up, over and down through rocky passes that I would have taken great care negotiating on foot. We hold on tight and trust the horses as the slip and stumble but always keep there feet. We reach the the roof of the canyon and look back across it to our hotel . It's moments like these that put me in awe of what nature has created. There is a purity of this single moment in time, nothing concerns me. I am here in the moment, in this space, breathing in the beauty of it all.

Later that afternoon we catch the train for the remainder of the journey to Villahermosa. The train is an hour late so we only get three hours of light to see the magnificent views before it becomes dark and the window reflects us back on ourselves. We drink beer and play cards. When we arrive at Villahermosa there is no transfer to take us to the hotel as arranged. An over weight taxi driver wearing white snakeskin effect winkle pickers that extend about a meeter from the bottom of his trouser legs offers to take us to our hotel for ninety pesos. This is double the amount that is suggested in our trusty lonley planet guide. 'Es Caro', 'it's expensive' Lou tells him and walks off. A second driver offers to take us for fifty pesos. We accept.

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