Into The Canyon

February 4th

A day of two halves really. 

The road South from Cusarare takes us to the “Batopilas Junction” from where the road forks, one route dropping a hair-raising over 1500 metres to the base of Baropilas canyon, the other leaving the Copper Canyon area behind to the East.

But first, the road and we must traverse the Copper Canyon - dropping over 1000m, before crossing a river bridge and ascending those same 1000m once again on the other side. I suspect one half of the day will be a lot bigger than the other…. In the sense that crawling up a one thousand metre wall takes a whole lot longer than zooming down one.

But zooming down 1000m - time for some grinning…



However, it’s never that simple. There are a couple of lesser drops and tough ascents before we get to the main chute down the Copper Canyon.

Some of the features on the way are just gargantuan. We spend an hour climbing towards this amazing rock amphitheatre and it’s just too wide for the camera to cover. The right side is a mirror image of the left as it stands separate from the rest of the land like a colossus. We ride between it’s jaws before the road swings away…. 



And behold the next cataract, another giant scar on the earth….



Then the road truly does start it’s final and decisive descent - the road a jagged slash across the hillside….



Sue pauses to catch a breath; and measure her surroundings….



Suddenly we are at the bridge over the Urique River - the patient sculptor whose work we have been admiring, and in a flash it’s all over.

The climb begins in earnest….

But moving slowly brings it’s own reward. The way down is a blur of high speed zigs and zags. Crank the bike hard over, take the bend, grab some brake - woah - scrub off that speed, next bend, snatch a glimpse of scenery, set for the next bend…. 

Stirring stuff! Ascents allow for a more serene approach as vistas unfold at a more geological pace. At 3 miles an hour the world is slow to change and you can take it all in, and look back at the ever growing road behind….



When finally, you have enough road behind you for this to happen…..



It’s been a big day in the world of the ciclista, and fine rewards are richly deserved by the conquerors of the Copper Canyon…..

So it is with a slight sense of  disappointment we find ourselves  in the men’s bathroom of a local petrol station for the night....

The town we were headed for looks like it upped and left when the petrol station closed down. Still the tent fitted perfectly inside, and when it’s minus a lot outside at night, you take whatever shelter is offered. Definitely got some strange comments from the security guards that found us there at midnight….



The next days ride grows steadily less spectacular as we leave the canyon system behind and the earth takes on a less tortured, but still big and beautiful look….



We do get our reward when we reach Guachochi and splash out on a more luxurious room for a couple of nights of well earned rest…. Check it out - it’s even got carpet, the first we’ve seen since the US….



El Tajaban

February 3rd

Pablo, owner of our Cabin in Creel tells us of the road to "El Tajaban", a little traveled route terminating in the most spectacular view of any canyon in the area. This is a bold claim and requires some serious checking out, especially as the road is only 22kms of "good quality" dirt road and we can leave our things in Cusarare and have the luxury of riding light. He assures us there's just a bit of climbing and after that the road is excellent.

This is Pablo....

Clearly this man is insane and has a hugely over optimistic view of our cycling capabilities.

The small climb turns out to be a 500m gain in altitude covering 5kms of sand and rock taking one and a half hours. We never leave bottom gear! Sue bails out and returns home. I'm made of sterner (read - more stupid) stuff and believe Pablo's assertion that the road is excellent after the climb.

He's soooo wrong. This is without doubt the worst road I've ridden, and I've ridden Bolivian roads!! I fall off a loaded bike all the time - falling off a naked bike is just embarrassing. But, oh, these roads. After 4 hours I've made 16kms (10 miles) fell off twice and finally get my first view of El Tajaban maybe a kilometer across a ravine. I seriously contemplate turning back; even at this point..... I can see the next 6kms of road snaking down, then back up the other side of maybe a 350m chasm. 6kms of road to travel 1km in distance. But I just can't quit. Not now when I'm this close....

The road turns to pumice stone which grips the wheels just fine. Unfortunately it doesn't grip other bits of pumice stone too well, and the whole lot has a tendency to roll and slide. The going gets really steep dropping into the ravine and the bike begins to skid as I lock the back wheel. Then the front locks as well. A quick count of my wheels reveals that's all of them - they're all sliding now, and that's bad! The bike is picking up speed and there's a bend coming up. And after that - a 200m drop!

Fortunately the front wheel hits a rock, which is good as it stops the bike dead. The bad part is that I don't stop with it and fly over the handlebars. I just manage to vault the bars and land on my feet making the hop and skip from a triple jump. Then I'm skiing on a pair of size nine's rapidly trying to find some grip and scrub off speed. I drop and grab handfuls of rock and finally come to a stop, feet dangling over the edge. I just have time to feel my ears throb with the blood pounding; and decide, maybe I'm going to live..... when I see the bike didn't quite come to a stop and is careering over the edge as well. Straight towards me....

Thinking quickly, I don't let go of the rock to stop the bike.... I use my face instead. It hurts! But being smashed in the face has never made me feel so happy! The bike will live too! Visions of it turning from one lovely piece into 50 less lovely, more flat and mangled pieces causes a slight maniacal edge to my hysterical laughter as I drag myself back on to the road. Especially when I realise that could have been me!

This is the kind of incident that makes one take stock, and the rest of the ride is conducted at a more leisurely pace. Especially as the "road" disintegrates further to this....

This is the canyon....

It's nice.... but I really can't agree with Pablo that it's the finest view in all the kingdom and now I have to go back to Creel and kill him.

And that's how I get by for the return 22kms of "excellent" dirt road. Hate and vengeance are powerful drivers....

In total the ride is 44kms of dirt and 10kms of paved road - 34 miles. It takes 8 hours and it's the hardest day's riding I've ever done. I ache all over. Sue wisely decides to "just give me a minute" when I get back to realign my sanity.

I've decide not to kill Pablo.... it's probably bad for the tour, but if you do see this man....

Make sure you don't believe a word he says. And tell him there's a man from Manchester who wants a word with him!

Cusarare

2nd February

Leaving Creel we head South to Cusarare, an indigenous Raramuri Indian village 22kms away. The name Cusarare means “Place of Eagles“ in English, and in addition to a cool sounding name, there is a lovely river hike culminating in a 30 metre cascade at the end of the picturesque route. 

Descending the rubble road in to the village, it’s immediately clear they don’t get too many gringos in these parts. Locals stare and enquiries about accommodation are met with an assortment of surprise, non comprehension and just plain amusement that we actually want to stop here. One local recommends returning to Creel! Another suggests waiting as the new hotel is not quite finished?? Eventually we find a family who have a private room and will take us in. The only snag is that the bathroom is shared - and it’s in another building.

In the bedroom of the family’s 2 sons..…

Oh well - nice and cosy then.

Having secured lodgings, we head out along the river - the hike more than making up for any strange bathroom arrangements…



Then the land rears up and begins to funnel the water into a steep sided, pine tree lined canyon….

 

Before we clamber down, around the sides of the falls. The view looking back towards the multi coloured  rock wall of the waterfall…



It’s a swelteringly hot afternoon in direct sunlight, yet the extreme range of night and day temperatures is highlighted in the icicles that still surround the flow - even at 3pm. Icy bombs drop occasionally as they warm and melt in the heat. Shaded pools are still icy cold…

 

A perfectly stationed day-time moon, set against the blue, blue sky provides a nice background to the cascade….



As does this kindly local who risks all to provide scale to the photo….

It’s the dry season in Mexico, so the river levels are low. It would just be great to return here in another season to see the torrent in full flow.

Maybe next trip….

Around Creel

January 29th to 31st

Creel is a great place to explore the Copper Canyon area. It comes as a bit of a shock after several days outside civilisation with it's paved streets, shops and restaurants. There are even a couple of "Adventure Tourism" companies where you can organise jeep tours and hire guides.

Taking the DIY route, we hike to the Valley of the Monks, or as indigenous Raramuri Indians prefer to call it Valley of the Erect Penises. It’s not all phallic though.

There are Roman Centurions…



Odin - Head honcho Norse God…



Aztec Chieftains....



Mushrooms....



And Frogs....



But some definitely look a bit erect and penis like….



Nice hike past the San Ignacio Mission where a galloping posse of 6 horsemen overtake us, completing the perfect film set look….



We decide to take it easy for a day at "Rekowate" a local natural spa . This being Mexico, it turns out not as easy as planned. 8kms on road, 8kms on a nasty section of dirt then a grinding 3km hike down 500m to the bottom of a steep sided canyon….



But it's all very, very worth it as warm water flows down the canyon sides and is collected in a series of hot pools. It’s an awesome setting and a fine way to spend an afternoon…



The rest of our time here is just wasted exploring amongst beautiful pine forest trails and around crystal watered Arereko Lake….



To Creel

January 29th

We leave Areponapuchi village, heading for Creel the only town proper along the train route. It’s the main stopover point for passengers to disembark and organise trips into the canyon.

We however can take in the views as we travel. One major advantage of the bike over the train is the ability to stop as we go. El Divisadero is the only other point along the train route (apart from Areponapuchi) where you get a view down into the canyon. The train stops here for just 15 minutes - hardly enough time to take it all in. Or you can stay overnight in the village’s only hotel, a luxury affair built into the cliff face and charging 200 US dollars a night. Neither would be good options for us.

This is what you would miss….



Raramuri Indians weaving baskets, rugs and other handicrafts…



The road also takes you past the viewpoint to the Otoro River - one of the canyons not mentioned on the train tour. Consequently we are completely alone to enjoy incredible vistas down to the river over 1000m below….



I guess the train is just a tad easier though. The road is a never ending series of steep undulations. I rue the fact I spent so much money on gears for the bike; only 2 are required - top for downhill and grinding bottom gear to climb back up…



Moooooo….



We arrive in Creel late as the light fades from the day and quickly uncover a bargain. We get a huge log cabin for 12 quid (18 dollars) a night and before we can unpack Senor and Senora Peres (our hosts) have brought us steaming cups of milky coffee and built and lit the fire for us. How cosy, and very welcome - it’s minus a couple outside…



Areponapuchi

January 27th and 28th

Areponapuchi is a small village just 5 miles along the lovely, lovely smooth tarmac road from San Raphael and it‘s the closest you can get to the canyon rim. So after the torture of all those dirt racks, we celebrate a return to proper roads with our shortest day on tour.

This is what it has all been about, copper canyon - a region containing 20 canyons in an area 4 times larger and also deeper than the grand canyon. This is an 1800 metre drop in to the abyss - that's about 4 Empire State Buildings and an Eiffel Tower! Sue stands at 2300m (7700ft) amongst conifer and pine where the ground freezes at night, and looks down on the hot sub tropical climate at just 500m (1650ft) altitude, way below…



It’s dizzying stuff as a teeny tiny Sue tries to establish some sense of scale….



Whilst pondering just how close she came to a luxury hotel on this tour….



One man and his dog - I am adopted by a local pooch who follows me everywhere…



The eye grapples with the mind to take it all in….



Amazingly people live here and there are huts dotted amongst the creases of rock, hundreds of metres below…



Hiking down, deep into the canyon you feel the temperature begin to rise as you lose altitude. We find a school house with tracks radiating out in all directions from it, connecting up the valleys and linking the building to homes; a web of knowledge fanning outwards. Presumably the tracks fade in and out of existence as children reach and outgrow school age. The climbs these children make for their daily lessons is astonishing…



An indigenous tribe of Indians- the Raramuri , pushed ever further in to the mountains by the 16th century advance of the Spanish call this inhospitable place home. The name means “those who run fast” and refers to their legendary abilities during the hunt, chasing down deer on foot by simply exhausting the animal over a period of up to 20 hours. Nowadays they compete in punishing foot races up to 100 miles through brutal canyon terrain. Seriously impressive stuff!!

Simple dwelling, but what a view….



We climb back up to the rim as the sun begins to tease an amber glow from the rocks….



Blood on the Streets

January 26th

We leave Cerocahui just as the daily commute gets in to full swing…



Again we are delayed on the road, and not just by the terrain this time… killer mutant chickens, grown huge and mean; attack on sigh. This guy really did go for us - a cross between a turkey’s rage the week after Christmas, and scrap-yard attack dog…



And a 2 minute stop in Bahuichivo sees us mobbed by local school children…



Two minutes later the word is out and the crowd has grown exponentially…



All of which means we come this close to catching the train that would make all the pain go away…



Not that I would have let Sue catch it.
I keep telling her - this is cycle touring and it’s not supposed to be fun.

And the pain does keeps growing. Sue takes a tumble as she brakes hard on a descent and the road dissolves under her tyres. I turn medic and break out the antiseptic wipes as her arm and leg leak the red stuff. Amazingly she questions my bedside manner when I offer to take pictures and use duct tape on her bandages. This is the road that got her....



All the while the next train rolls by mockingly close to the “road”….



This is the last in a series of switchbacks we have been climbing for 700 vertical metres - half a mile into the sky...



Back in Cerocahui, a local guide told us once we finish the climb, make sure not to miss the right turn down to San Raphael, it’s not signed and looks like a minor road heading 2 miles in to town. If we miss it, we make a loop and end up back in Cerocahui - a sort of cyclist’s Groundhog Day. This is something to avoid.

So we make a turn down what is a minor looking road. Which becomes ever more minor, descending steeply, and then turning to deep mud until we dead end at a village of maybe 20 souls just as the sun begins to set. It’s freezing at 2300 metres (7600 ft) of altitude and we are just thinking about pitching the tent for a cold night, when a local turns up looking bemused. Why don’t we just hitch a ride back up to the road, he inquires, as if asking the obvious question. I explain we have seen no traffic all day and I am questioning my Spanish when (I think) he replies there will be some along any minute. The cycle gods do intervene once again when a convoy of lights emerge, as if on cue over a hill, and a passing construction crew of diggers and backhoe loaders approach. Acting as if cyclists needing a ride wait at this very spot everyday, they stop, throw the bikes in the back and drive us back up to the main road. They recommend the orangest hotel in the world….



And we have finally made San Raphael. The land where roads turn magically from rock and stone to tarmac!