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Published: July 30th 2006
Well we made it into Mexico, but not without a little bit of a run around. First, there were problems with the car. You see, the guy who claimed he was head over heels for good ol’ Su was a bit fickle and never called us back. This left us in a bit of a lurch because the only other people who showed any interest didn’t have any money (I guess they didn’t understand me when I wrote in the ad that we must be paid in cash when we come through El Paso because we ain’t sticking around.) Both Paul and I quietly began to panic.
But the gods were smiling upon us. Less than 5 miles from the city limits we got a phone call from potential buyer #4. Turns out, Dave was legit and even better, free all afternoon. We sighed a big sigh and eagerly agreed to meet him at a state inspection center. (We would have agreed to meet him almost anywhere!) There we sat all afternoon waiting patiently for Su to get her inspection. And when she finally did, she failed. Ugh! In Texas, you can’t register a car unless it passes an emissions
test. Dave couldn’t take the car, if it wasn’t registered. Doh! (In my head spaghetti western music is playing as the train is quickly approaching the beautiful maiden roped to the tracks.)
Paul and I felt more than slightly defeated as we trudged off to find a hotel and figure out what on earth to do next. We looked into donating the car but learned that those sorts of things take a few days. We thought about taking her to a wrecking yard, but I couldn’t stomach the idea of having her torn to pieces for spare parts. Finally, Paul decided he would take Su back to the mechanics in the morning to see what could be done. Su was given a second inspection, and miraculously, this time around, she passed. Maybe it had something to do with the $20 Paul slipped the mechanic. However it happened, we were stoked. By one o’clock that afternoon, we had transferred the title and were dropped off at the El Paso bus station ready to get across that border.
Again, this turned out to be a little more difficult than one might think. You see, tourists need to get a tourist
card when they come into Mexico if they plan to venture past the border zone. Usually, this takes place on the plane as a person flies into the country. Silly me, I assumed we would be able to get what we needed on the bus into the country as well. This turned out to be only sort of true. I learned that yes, the bus does stop at immigration just after crossing the bridges into Mexico. But, chances are the bus driver won’t wait for those sorry folk who have to get the tourist card inside the building. What’s worse is that you might end up getting separated from your bags in the process. So you end up with a tourist card, but no bus and no bags. Paul and I decided to not take the gamble.
Instead, we decided to walk across the pedestrian bridge to Mexico, find the immigration office, get our tourist cards, and then walk balk over to El Paso to catch our bus to Chihuahua. Would you believe when we got to the Mexican side of the bridge, the officials at the border didn’t seem to have ever heard of tourist cards and weren’t
sure where to get them? With a little help we finally found the right building and got the appropriate documentation. We also managed to change a little money before heading back across the mighty Rio Grande.
And finally, at 4:15 we got on our 4:30 bus with onward tickets for the 6:00 bus to Chihuahua in hand. Unfortunately our 4:30 bus didn’t leave until 5:10 and then made several additional stops for passengers at corners along the way. At 5:40, we finally crossed back over the bridge into Mexico and headed back to the immigration building we had visited a couple of hours previously. There, we all paraded off the bus, retrieved our bags from the compartments below, and then took turns having the border officials haphazardly paw through them. At this point, I could see that there was no chance that we were going to make it to the Juarez station in time to catch our connecting bus. When we arrived at the station at 6:20, our bus was long gone. Fortunately, we were able to change tickets for the next bus which meant arriving in Chihuahua at midnight instead of 11. What’s one hour later when it’s
already so late really?
(As a side note, there was another American on the bus who planned on going beyond the border area, but had not yet got his tourist papers. He got left. Poor bugger.)
Sleepily, we entered the Chihuahua bus center with no firm plans on where to go next.. So we randomly selected the name of a hotel out of our travel guide and hailed a taxi.
We got a good one. The driver was full of stories. He told us about his trip to Roswell, NM and then later how in 1984 he saw a UFO which floated completely still in the air above Chihuahua, hovering low to the ground flashing colored lights until all of a sudden a bright beam shone down to the earth and then it was off. Closer to our hotel, we passed the cathedral where mister taxi driver impressed us with yet another tale of the supernatural. According to him, Chihuahua’s city bells are rung by spirits every night at midnight.
The hotel we selected at random was closed down, but a half block up we found another. It was grubby and they rented rooms by the hour,
but muy cheap. The sheet sacks Mom made for us came in handy that night. Thanks Mom!
In the morning we strolled around town admiring all the boots. Chihuahua is a bit of a cowboy town, and, man, do they like their boots! There are red ones and blue ones and green ones and even purple ones. Paul liked the ones with the crocodile spikes running down the toes the best. I just thought they looked pretty all in rows.
Then it was off to Creel, the nexus of tourism in the Copper Canyon, which is actually a cluster of canyons in Northern Mexico that collectively, put the Grand Canyon to shame or at least that’s what the tourist brochure said. We were stoked.
The bus ride to Creel was fantastic. It really hit me that I was back in Mexico again. I think I was a little too frazzled the first day to take everything in and enjoy it, but now all the warm nostalgia came rushing back as we bumped and bounced down the road, buying burritos and Fritos with chile and lime from the touts who boarded the bus at every stop, watching families
The Ultimate Tour
The thermal pools way down in the bottom of the canyon.of four pile into the two seats they bought, and admiring the fantastic rugged scenery out the cracked windows. I was so excited when a snake oil salesman boarded the bus to try and sell us a badly photocopied booklet of natural cures—everything from peyote to cure stomach and colon problems to banana and honey milkshakes to cure alcoholism. I had so much fun listening to his spiel. And to my surprise, he sold over 10 copies to attentive bus riders looking for easy cures for their ailments, addictions, and gray hairs.
In Creel, we stayed at a guest house called Casa de Huespedes Margarita. This place was highly recommended both from our travel book and also from our friend Kimary who lived in Creel for several months volunteering in a health center for the Tarahumara Indians. Unfortunately we weren’t so pleased with our stay there. I think timing had something to do with it; Paul and I were visiting during one of the busiest times of the year—when most of Mexico is on vacation. As such, the place was chaotic. Breakfast and dinner were included in the price of the room and were served at two long tables
squeezed into the front room of the guest house. The meals were absolutely fantastic if only you could manage to find a seat not to mention a spoon or a fork or something to drink. Every time a group of people got up from their seats, there was a mad rush of hungry people waiting for their meal, elbowing and shoving in to take their place. We always managed to get a spot, but only after a long wait with growling stomachs.
The other unfortunate thing about Margaritas was the way she and her family pestered us to go on of their “tours” each time they saw us. We decided to take them up on one the second day to visit some thermal pools nestled in the bottom of one of the nearby canyons. Maybe it was partly our fault for not inquiring more about what was to be included in the “tour”, but what we ended up getting was a 30 minute ride to a trailhead and directions to “go that way” and be back by 3:00. The price for this fantastic “tour” was $15 each, and this didn’t even include the $1.50 admission to the pools or
a cold drink when we were picked up.
Despite these small disappointments, the long walk down to the pools and the swim once we got there were absolutely fantastic. The climb up was good too, just a whole lot of work. We followed a steep, narrow road with switchbacks so tight that the four-wheel drive vehicles that dared to make the drive had to make 3-point turns each time the road doubled back. I was happy to be on my own two feet.
The next day we traveled by bus on just such a road for five hours on the way to Batopilas. It was absolutely frightening, but it was quite possibly the must striking scenery that I have ever seen in my life. And besides, the bus had four wheels on the back axle so we really had nothing to worry about when sometimes it looked like the outside one was half dangling over a several hundred meter drop. The bus also had a couple of quirks such as the broken bit of suspension that was dragging along the ground and the way we had to stop every 30 minutes or so for “photo stops” so that
the brakes could cool.
The town of Batopilas has a fascinating history. It came to be in the 1780s after a man named Shepard struck silver in some nearby mines. He and his family built many of the bridges and houses in the area as well as their enormous adobe mansion that now lies in crumbles across the river from town. Rumor has is that Batopilas, due to the wealth of its mines, was the second city in Mexico to have electricity.
Personally, I wasn’t sure what to think about the town of Batopilas when we arrived. It’s a charming little place that lies alongside the Urique River in the bottom of one of the deepest canyons. The climate is completely different from Creel. It’s warm and tropical and green as it gets, but I found it so sleepy that I wondered if it had a pulse at all. After some more time there I realized this was part of its charm. You either kick back and relax, or you leave. We decided to stay.
We ended up bunking in a family’s guest house called, Casa Monse. Arturo, Monse’s 70 year old husband, caught our attention as
we got off the bus, and we thought it would be fun to stay somewhere a little different. He ended up being quite a character. I overheard several conversations between he and his wife where she was at him to get us to go with him on a tour. He would tell her that he had asked us and we weren’t interested (when he really had told us that he used to take people on tours, but now he’s too old and retired). Monse, on the other hand, seemed to have a bit of a thing for Paul. She kept telling him that the little girls who helped around the house wanted to give him kisses, but I’m not so sure she wasn’t talking about herself. Nevertheless, the stay was completely enjoyable and definitely memorable. The guayabas that thunked like lead bricks on our tin roof kept us giggling all night.
While in Batopilas, we decided to take a 16 kilometer walk to the nearby town of Satevo, where the Jesuits had built a mission some 350 years ago. A friendly Swiss couple we had met on the “tour” the previous day ended up on the bus to Batopilas
and joined us on our walk. Sarkis is a comedian who hosts a game show in Switzerland which you can check out at www.cmonjeu.ch. Karine is getting her PhD in geology and was full of useful information about the rocks around us as well as their inhabitants, the Tarahumara Indians. For instance, from her, we learned that the Tarahumara people are well known for being excellent runners and have an annual 160 km race. Now, I don’t know all the details of the competition, but any race that is the length of four marathons has got to be impressive. The Tarahumaras are also known for their beautiful, bright, flowing traditional clothing (both the women and men wear skirts, the men show a bit more leg) and live in caves throughout the Copper Canyon. I wish I knew more about them to share with you (maybe Kimary will add a comment and share some of her knowledge).
Satevo, the mission, and the walk there and back along the river were stunning. But even better, were all the unexpected sights and adventures that we had along the way. We stumbled across a beautiful little cemetery just outside of Satevo where Paul
and Sarkis (who is also a photographer) had a heyday taking pictures of the tombs being taken over by cacti and wild flowers. Sarkis and I also attempted to cross the canyon on a high hanging bridge. But after a couple of dozen steps, we were both so freaked out by the creaking, rotted out wood beneath us that we promptly tiptoed ourselves back to safety. We came across some cliff dwellings too and thought we would pay a visit. As we scrambled up the rocks, however, we began to feel not so welcome and decided maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to go intruding into these people’s homes. Nevertheless, catching a glimpse of how the Tarahumara live was fascinating. Paul and I also had a quick swim in the river where Paul quickly became pals with some friendly children as he splashed around. Paul’s limited vocabulary of “Hola” worked wonders at winning over the kids. We also saw tons of animals, including horses, pigs, dogs, cows, burros, turkeys, chicken, guinea fowl, lizards, snakes, frogs, buzzards, some furry thing, and loads of goats climbing on the rocks.
The next morning we woke up at 4:30 to catch the
5:00 bus back to Creel. At first, I thought it was frankly quite ludicrous for the only bus to Creel to leave at such a god forsaken hour. Thirty minutes into the ride as the first signs of the sun started to silhouette the craggly mountainside, I was eternally grateful for the experience. The scenery was so indescribably breathtaking in the morning light that I kept thinking to myself that this was one of those magical experiences that will stay with me for a lifetime. These are the moments that make all the inevitable long bus rides and little frustrations of travel worth it. For any of you who decided to come to the Copper Canyon, if you do nothing else, taking this bus ride will make it worth the journey.
We arrived in Creel in time to get a bite of breakfast before boarding the famous Copper Canyon train, El Chepe. This train is one of the only passenger train routes in Mexico and is hailed as one of the greatest rail journeys in the world. It travels 408 miles between Chihuahua and Los Mochis, going through 86 tunnels and over 37 bridges as it winds through some
of the most stunning areas of the Sierra Tarahumara and Copper Canyon.
The train trip is every bit as amazing as the guide books say. It’s mile after mile of gorgeous waterfalls and cliff faces as you travel through pine forests and lush green jungles. For those of you planning a trip, here are a couple of handy tips. First, the most beautiful scenery is between Divisadero and El Fuerte (two stops along the journey). Taking a bus to or from these places and then taking the train between them will not only save you some dough, but will allow you more time in Divisadero to explore and not have you arriving at your final destination so late that you are too tired to look for somewhere to sleep. Also, we couldn’t determine any real differences between the first and second class trains except that the second class is an hour or two behind the first class train and half the price. For us, second class was still pretty luxurious. And if you are a student, bring your student card and ask for the discount. It will save you another 50 percent. Actually, this goes for lots of things
Mango on a stick
A little piece of heaven for 10 pesos in Mexico especially bus fares and museum and archaeological site entrance fees. I’m saving all sorts of money.
In El Fuerte, we spent the night at a beautiful little hotel named El Guerrero with a central patio with parrots and an adorable little puppy. The 200 peso rate (or $20) included breakfast and free bottles of water and the owners are really nice. Another perk is that the buses to Los Mochis (where you can catch a bus to almost anywhere leave from across the street). Thank you, Sarkis and Karine, for the great recommendation.
At breakfast in El Fuerte, we met Roger and Ruth, a couple from Barcelona who were also headed to Mazatlan. We traveled together in a luxurious bus with reclining seats and foot rests where we got to watch Ice Age in Spanish as well as a couple of older Mexican movies whose main character reminded me of a male Lucille Ball. Very entertaining.
In Mazatlan, we caught one of the famous little taxis, called Pulmones, to our hotel near the beach. These little taxis are made by Volkswagen and appear to be a cross between golf carts and dune buggies. I’ve never
seen anything like them anywhere, and I love them. They are so cute and a hoot to ride in.
Also in Mazatlan, we were thrilled to find out that a Lucha Libre match was coming to town during our time here. We were so there. For those of you who have never heard of Lucha Libre, it’s like the WWF or Rock ‘n Roll Wrestling only the wrestlers wear colorful masks and people in Mexico are bonkers for it. (Jack Black’s latest film, Nacho Libre, is all about a Lucha Libre wrestler if you want to learn more about it.) Anyhow, Paul was hankering for a little cultural, and since the bull fighting season isn’t until April, we thought this was the next best thing. It was definitely an experience.
From previous visits to Mexico, I have become used to the fact that Mexicans don’t get all that caught up with safety at public events. This was definitely the case at the wrestling match. Wrestlers were throwing chairs and each other into the crowds and taking small kids as hostages to use as shields. During one match, two wrestlers pulled out fluorescent tubes from under the ring and
The cliff diver of Mazatlan
After a very long wait and 20 pesos, it turns out only one of the six or so divers actually jumps (and only one time). Good thing Paul was ready with the camera. proceeded to smash them over each others heads with no regard for the flying shards of glass landing in the crowd. Parents just laughed as they quickly covered the eyes of the little ones in their lap.
To be honest, everything about Mazatlan has been an unexpected treat. I had expected to find a horrible resort town full of drunk American college students and cruise ship patrons. While I know these parts of the city probably exist, it’s a big enough place that it’s easy to avoid the touristy areas. Paul and I have had so much fun exploring the squares in the old town, devouring scrumptious mangos on a stick, wandering the market and eating dirt cheap fish dinners. The beaches are also gorgeous with little palapas to sit under and enjoy cold bottles of Pacifico beer while watching the velvety red sunsets. I’m not sure we are ever going to leave. To be honest, at $15 dollars a night, I’m not sure we ever have to.
But if we do, it’s off to the town of Tequila to sample tequila at the local Cuervo and Sauza distilleries. Then to Guadalajara to meet up with Kimary and
see some of the cute colonial cities nearby. That sounds pretty fun too.
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Joylynn
non-member comment
Lucha Libre!
My sister and brother-in-law brought home lucha libre masks as gifts for family members and friends from their stay in Monterrey! We all put them on and took a family photo:)