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Copper Canyon trip



 
 
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  #1  
Old August 10th, 2008, 07:29 PM posted to rec.travel.usa-canada
singlemalt
external usenet poster
 
Posts: 148
Default Copper Canyon trip

I am interested in a Copper Canyon trip and ran across an agent who calls
his company California Native. On paper it looks good but I would appreciate
anyone with first hand, or second hand, experience or knowledge. Please
reply and I will share with you the secret of eternal youth. Thanks,J.


  #2  
Old August 10th, 2008, 11:11 PM posted to rec.travel.usa-canada
K
external usenet poster
 
Posts: 25
Default Copper Canyon trip


"singlemalt" wrote in message
m...
I am interested in a Copper Canyon trip and ran across an agent who calls
his company California Native. On paper it looks good but I would
appreciate anyone with first hand, or second hand, experience or knowledge.
Please reply and I will share with you the secret of eternal youth.
Thanks,J.


Hi,

We did a nearly two-week tour of Copper Canyon a few years ago, and used
California Native to arrange everything for us, although we went on our own
and not with a group. The company did what I can call a perfect job. Our
route took us first to El Fuerte. We arrived late at night and spent the
next night there. It was election day, and there was a polling place right
on the front verandah of our hacienda. There were a few hours of heavy rain
in the afternoon, but having the constant stream of eager voters right there
kept things interesting. We had booked horses to go along the river, but
the rains prevented that. We had a dry morning to look around the
interesting town, and spotted a nice looking restaurant where we had our
dinner.

We had tickets for a 6am departure on the train, but our request for a
wakeup call was laughed off at the desk, who said our breakfast would be
ready at 8, then a car would take us to the train. We were still the first
ones to the station, but busloads of seniors soon filled the platform.

We were entertained by some schoolboys on horseback, who put on a little
fancy riding demonstration, then paraded by with their hats out, and those
hats were soon very heavy looking.

The train finally came. The tour groups, thankfully, had private cars in
the back of the train, and we found seats just behind the bar/snack car,
which was just behind the dining car. The train is quite nice, with fairly
new equipment, comfortable seats, and clean windows.

Our destination was Divisadero that day, and it was literally a day trip to
get there. The train is slow, desperately slow sometimes, but the journey
is remarkable. Our gray morning became a very rainy day before long, but
rather than the rain putting a damper on our enjoyment, we were rewarded
with views of vernal falls everywhere. There were hundreds and more
hundreds of cascades where they don't normally exist, so the already
spellbinding scenery was made even moreso, despite the rain. There was a
standing area between the bar car and dining car, with a long, glassless
window on each side, so photography was possible even with rain streaking
down the windows.

We were one second late deciding it was lunch time, and were nearly
flattened by a horde of seniors. It was another hour before we could get a
meal. The food was good - prepared to order and not particularly expensive.
When the weather cleared, we pulled onto a siding while an odd train passed
in the other direction. There was an engine, followed by flatcar after
flatcar, and on the flatcars were RVs of all manner and size. Since their
occupants hadn't been in the rain yet, they were hanging out on the
flatcars, with drinks and snacks, enjoying the scenery.

I never looked into that train, but any RVers reading this might be
interested enough to look it up The nearest that train could have come from
is Creel, but there are roads to all the stops between Creel and Chihuahua.

We finally reached Divisadero late in the afternoon. It was dark out, and
it was snowing. Our hotel was down a ramp to the canyon rim, and to the
left, and our room was reached by a rickety-looking wooden platform to a
block of rooms perched right on the canyon rim. It was dark, so there was
no sightseeing that night.

We checked at the hotel desk to ensure that our horseback rides scheduled
for the next day, and were told everything was set. This hotel was styled
like a ski lodge, with massive beams, and great stone fireplaces everywhere.
The restaurant was brighter, and the food was very good. After eating, we
relaxed in a fireplaced nook with drinks, and chatted with a couple from
Manitoba who we recognized from the train.

The next morning, I rose early and pulled the drapes to see our view for the
first time. I think it was my gasp that woke my wife. We got ready quickly
and went out onto our deck, which had a dropoff of something like 6,000 ft
from there to the canyon bottom. There was mist rising through the
sunbeams, and light reached further down into the canyon by the minute. We
finally had to tear ourselves from that to get cleaned up for breakfast

We were at the appointed spot for our horseback ride on time, but a lady
from the hotel came to see us, saying that our horses had been let out two
days earlier because of the storm, and nobody could find them. She pointed
to a small group of people nearby and said the hotel would provide a guide
for a walking tour, and we could tip him a peso each if we wanted to.

We went on the tour. The guide was young and didn't really speak English,
and didn't want to speak in Spanish, so he was pretty mute for most of the
tour, but things were self-evident for the most part. We were in some deep
woods on the canyon rim when we came on a clearing, perhaps a mile long. It
was the airport. The drugs airport.

Divisadero isn't a town, it's a train stop. There are hotels, a store/gas
station, and a few ranches. Thus, I was intrigued when we came on what
looked like a millpond in New England, complete with waterwheel and a red
building. I finally got the guide to speak in Spanish, and he said the
building was erected 100 years ago to crush grain. It was built by the
government for use by the Tarahuamara Indians (pronounce Tara-Mara) who soon
went back to their mortar and pestle ways. It spent time as an illegal
distillery, a school building, and the government is once again trying to
convince the Indians to market products there, instead of on sidewalks and
dangerous cliffside perches.

We went for a second cliffside tour later that day, and stretched it until
dusk. We were up on a high point when our guide pointed out a rancho in the
distance and said it was his home. Then he held out his hand to shake, and
fully intended to leave us there in the dark. I was bigger than this guy,
and my wife can argue quite well in Spanish, so he finally brought us back.
I gave him five bucks, when what he deserved was my size 11 in his backside.

The next morning we packed up, then wandered some more, finding the
Divisadero ladder, which the Indians use to go to and from their villages,
about 1,000 feet below the rim, and in tiers to the canyon bottom.

The train came in late afternoon, so we just sat in the bar car for the
short trip to Creel, where we stayed in a comfy new chain-hotel, but in
lodge-like accomodations, complete with our own gas stove for heating.

We had a nice meal, but apparently some toxic corn chowder. That was all we
had in common, and we were quite distressed for a while, until the Imodium
took effect.

The next morning, a young Mexican guy in a new Suburban picked us up for our
first real 'adventure' of the trip - the ride to Batopilas at the bottom of
the canyon. Before the turnoff into the canyon proper, we were shown a
waterfall by going off-road, and following the river IN the river until we
got close, then we walked. It was a pretty place, and we enjoyed a bit of a
snack there, then back to the car for our descent.

The pavement ends very shortly after the turnoff for Batopilas. After that,
both literally and figuratively, it's all downhill from there, and what a
HILL. We stopped frequently, sometimes at our request, other times to let
uphill-bound vehicles go by, and often because cars in front of us were
stopped.

The road is evil. The scenery is spectacular, and ever-changing as you
descend The road hadn't escaped the damaging rains of the previous few
days, and there were washouts where even our dark-skinned driver looked
white and wide-eyed.

Once at the canyon bottom, spectacular is replaced by what seems impossible.
It's beautiful: green like a jungle, yet with the fantastic canyon scenery
rising above, in every direction. The Batopilas canyon, and the town of
Batopilas are named after the Batopilas river, which was truly raging when
we arrived. We were driven through the pretty-much one road town to our
hotel, Julia's, which has only two or three rooms, no phone or restaurant,
and a very simple room. That room has a wide veranda, though, and it
overhangs the Batopilas river as much as our room in Divisadero overhung the
canyon.

It was wild, and hard to leave that porch for any reason. There were
goatherders across the river, leading what seemed an endles parade of goats
home from wherever they'd been foraging, and just a canyon wall over there.
There was a mangled jeep in the middle of the river, and it still held
paint, so it was probably a storm-related wrect. It was the force and the
sound of that water that was so mesmerizing.

We eventually tore ourselves away to look for Maxi, the rancher who was to
take us trail riding the next day. All we had was the heard name over the
phone, so not even a proper spelling. However, walking through town looking
for the tourist desk, we were greeted by an American woman at the door to a
gift shop. Surprised by her presence, we talked for a bit, then mentioned
we were looking for Maxi about horseback riding.

She called to a young girl, and gave her a coin while she told her to go
find Maxi and bring him there. Then we talked, mostly about how she came to
be running an upscale gift shop in such a remote place. The girl came back
with the bad news - Maxi was gone, and from what I could understand, she
meant he was on a bender somewhere, and everyone was looking for him.

Anyhow, I'm trying to answer your question, not write a travelogue.
Batopilas, at the bottom of the canyon, was the high point of our trip. It
was once one of the richest towns in the world, and was second to only NYC
with a public electrical grid, along with one of the first public water
systems in Mexico (still operating, and quite fascinating). There are no
fancy restaurants, but everyone serves good food. Mostly, Batopilas has a
very cheery and friendly population, even by Mexico standards.

We spent another day in Creel: it was market day, and there was a festival
in the square. Creel is interesting in it's own way. It's a lumbering
town, and very much old-west in nature. Teenagers ride their dates double
on horses down the street, and pickups and SUVs rule the parking spots.
There's a little fried chicken place just off the square, and the chicken is
wonderful. Not sure what their spices are, but it's distinctive without
seeming foreign.

Leaving Creel, going the other way, we had another long train ride to
Cerocahui, where we stayed at a ranch run by Doug (Diego) Rhodes, and
American of no small charm. We met up there with a group on a tour with
California Native, and I was very surprised to learn that the guide was a
distant relative of mine.

This ranch is special in a lot of ways. The main hacienda is big and
inviting, has a paperback library of books in several languages, and it's an
actual hacienda. The rooms are arranged in a quadrangle, quite simple in
decor, yet all the amenities are there, including a woodstove and a supply
of firewood.

The first day, Doug himself took the two of us in his vehicle for a tour of
the area, then a descent to the town of Urique at the canyon bottom. This
was all on a paved road, and not nearly as dramatic as the road to
Batopilas, but that canyon is really at the green end of the Copper Canyon
complex, and my best photos of the trip are from there. The scenery is like
something I never imagined existed, and it was much easier to take in with a
fellow American as a guide. I don't speak bad Spanish, but I do miss
nuances, and that makes things lose meaning sometimes.

Urique is a tiny town, and it had been somewhat brutalized by the rains. We
walked around, had a nice lunch, then watched bulldozers and excavators as
they pushed the former contents of the river back into the river.

The ride back up, unlike from Batopilas, is more spectacular than the ride
down, only because you see the scenery where you came from, and it's more
varied than the other side fo the canyon.

This was our last chance for riding on the trip, and we were assured that
our horses would be outside and waiting when we awoke.

And they were, tethered to a rail right behind our room. We got acquainted,
led the animals to the hacienda, and had our breakfast. Then a ranch hand
was there to show us where to go. We rode for a solid four hours, saw a
little group of wild mustangs, a cave where a lot of people were buried, and
some of the most pleasant riding scenery anywhere.

After that, it was lunch, then back to the train for the too-long ride to El
Fuerte, where we stayed at the same hacienda, and had a car the next morning
to take us to Los Mochis for our flight to Mexico City.

California Native delivered on everything they promised that was under their
control. They had arranged our horses everywhere, but it was circumstance
and weather that interrupted that part of our trip. Otherwise, it was
great.

We went in November, when the difference between the rim and the canyon
bottom was extreme: 20F up top in Divisadero and 85F in Batopilas.

We made our own air arrangements

Keith


  #3  
Old August 11th, 2008, 12:34 AM posted to rec.travel.usa-canada
John Kulp
external usenet poster
 
Posts: 2,535
Default Copper Canyon trip

On Sun, 10 Aug 2008 17:11:34 -0500, "K" wrote:


"singlemalt" wrote in message
om...
I am interested in a Copper Canyon trip and ran across an agent who calls
his company California Native. On paper it looks good but I would
appreciate anyone with first hand, or second hand, experience or knowledge.
Please reply and I will share with you the secret of eternal youth.
Thanks,J.


Well, he asked you the time and you told him how to build a clock,
but, hey, it's a great travelogue!!



Hi,

We did a nearly two-week tour of Copper Canyon a few years ago, and used
California Native to arrange everything for us, although we went on our own
and not with a group. The company did what I can call a perfect job. Our
route took us first to El Fuerte. We arrived late at night and spent the
next night there. It was election day, and there was a polling place right
on the front verandah of our hacienda. There were a few hours of heavy rain
in the afternoon, but having the constant stream of eager voters right there
kept things interesting. We had booked horses to go along the river, but
the rains prevented that. We had a dry morning to look around the
interesting town, and spotted a nice looking restaurant where we had our
dinner.

We had tickets for a 6am departure on the train, but our request for a
wakeup call was laughed off at the desk, who said our breakfast would be
ready at 8, then a car would take us to the train. We were still the first
ones to the station, but busloads of seniors soon filled the platform.

We were entertained by some schoolboys on horseback, who put on a little
fancy riding demonstration, then paraded by with their hats out, and those
hats were soon very heavy looking.

The train finally came. The tour groups, thankfully, had private cars in
the back of the train, and we found seats just behind the bar/snack car,
which was just behind the dining car. The train is quite nice, with fairly
new equipment, comfortable seats, and clean windows.

Our destination was Divisadero that day, and it was literally a day trip to
get there. The train is slow, desperately slow sometimes, but the journey
is remarkable. Our gray morning became a very rainy day before long, but
rather than the rain putting a damper on our enjoyment, we were rewarded
with views of vernal falls everywhere. There were hundreds and more
hundreds of cascades where they don't normally exist, so the already
spellbinding scenery was made even moreso, despite the rain. There was a
standing area between the bar car and dining car, with a long, glassless
window on each side, so photography was possible even with rain streaking
down the windows.

We were one second late deciding it was lunch time, and were nearly
flattened by a horde of seniors. It was another hour before we could get a
meal. The food was good - prepared to order and not particularly expensive.
When the weather cleared, we pulled onto a siding while an odd train passed
in the other direction. There was an engine, followed by flatcar after
flatcar, and on the flatcars were RVs of all manner and size. Since their
occupants hadn't been in the rain yet, they were hanging out on the
flatcars, with drinks and snacks, enjoying the scenery.

I never looked into that train, but any RVers reading this might be
interested enough to look it up The nearest that train could have come from
is Creel, but there are roads to all the stops between Creel and Chihuahua.

We finally reached Divisadero late in the afternoon. It was dark out, and
it was snowing. Our hotel was down a ramp to the canyon rim, and to the
left, and our room was reached by a rickety-looking wooden platform to a
block of rooms perched right on the canyon rim. It was dark, so there was
no sightseeing that night.

We checked at the hotel desk to ensure that our horseback rides scheduled
for the next day, and were told everything was set. This hotel was styled
like a ski lodge, with massive beams, and great stone fireplaces everywhere.
The restaurant was brighter, and the food was very good. After eating, we
relaxed in a fireplaced nook with drinks, and chatted with a couple from
Manitoba who we recognized from the train.

The next morning, I rose early and pulled the drapes to see our view for the
first time. I think it was my gasp that woke my wife. We got ready quickly
and went out onto our deck, which had a dropoff of something like 6,000 ft
from there to the canyon bottom. There was mist rising through the
sunbeams, and light reached further down into the canyon by the minute. We
finally had to tear ourselves from that to get cleaned up for breakfast

We were at the appointed spot for our horseback ride on time, but a lady
from the hotel came to see us, saying that our horses had been let out two
days earlier because of the storm, and nobody could find them. She pointed
to a small group of people nearby and said the hotel would provide a guide
for a walking tour, and we could tip him a peso each if we wanted to.

We went on the tour. The guide was young and didn't really speak English,
and didn't want to speak in Spanish, so he was pretty mute for most of the
tour, but things were self-evident for the most part. We were in some deep
woods on the canyon rim when we came on a clearing, perhaps a mile long. It
was the airport. The drugs airport.

Divisadero isn't a town, it's a train stop. There are hotels, a store/gas
station, and a few ranches. Thus, I was intrigued when we came on what
looked like a millpond in New England, complete with waterwheel and a red
building. I finally got the guide to speak in Spanish, and he said the
building was erected 100 years ago to crush grain. It was built by the
government for use by the Tarahuamara Indians (pronounce Tara-Mara) who soon
went back to their mortar and pestle ways. It spent time as an illegal
distillery, a school building, and the government is once again trying to
convince the Indians to market products there, instead of on sidewalks and
dangerous cliffside perches.

We went for a second cliffside tour later that day, and stretched it until
dusk. We were up on a high point when our guide pointed out a rancho in the
distance and said it was his home. Then he held out his hand to shake, and
fully intended to leave us there in the dark. I was bigger than this guy,
and my wife can argue quite well in Spanish, so he finally brought us back.
I gave him five bucks, when what he deserved was my size 11 in his backside.

The next morning we packed up, then wandered some more, finding the
Divisadero ladder, which the Indians use to go to and from their villages,
about 1,000 feet below the rim, and in tiers to the canyon bottom.

The train came in late afternoon, so we just sat in the bar car for the
short trip to Creel, where we stayed in a comfy new chain-hotel, but in
lodge-like accomodations, complete with our own gas stove for heating.

We had a nice meal, but apparently some toxic corn chowder. That was all we
had in common, and we were quite distressed for a while, until the Imodium
took effect.

The next morning, a young Mexican guy in a new Suburban picked us up for our
first real 'adventure' of the trip - the ride to Batopilas at the bottom of
the canyon. Before the turnoff into the canyon proper, we were shown a
waterfall by going off-road, and following the river IN the river until we
got close, then we walked. It was a pretty place, and we enjoyed a bit of a
snack there, then back to the car for our descent.

The pavement ends very shortly after the turnoff for Batopilas. After that,
both literally and figuratively, it's all downhill from there, and what a
HILL. We stopped frequently, sometimes at our request, other times to let
uphill-bound vehicles go by, and often because cars in front of us were
stopped.

The road is evil. The scenery is spectacular, and ever-changing as you
descend The road hadn't escaped the damaging rains of the previous few
days, and there were washouts where even our dark-skinned driver looked
white and wide-eyed.

Once at the canyon bottom, spectacular is replaced by what seems impossible.
It's beautiful: green like a jungle, yet with the fantastic canyon scenery
rising above, in every direction. The Batopilas canyon, and the town of
Batopilas are named after the Batopilas river, which was truly raging when
we arrived. We were driven through the pretty-much one road town to our
hotel, Julia's, which has only two or three rooms, no phone or restaurant,
and a very simple room. That room has a wide veranda, though, and it
overhangs the Batopilas river as much as our room in Divisadero overhung the
canyon.

It was wild, and hard to leave that porch for any reason. There were
goatherders across the river, leading what seemed an endles parade of goats
home from wherever they'd been foraging, and just a canyon wall over there.
There was a mangled jeep in the middle of the river, and it still held
paint, so it was probably a storm-related wrect. It was the force and the
sound of that water that was so mesmerizing.

We eventually tore ourselves away to look for Maxi, the rancher who was to
take us trail riding the next day. All we had was the heard name over the
phone, so not even a proper spelling. However, walking through town looking
for the tourist desk, we were greeted by an American woman at the door to a
gift shop. Surprised by her presence, we talked for a bit, then mentioned
we were looking for Maxi about horseback riding.

She called to a young girl, and gave her a coin while she told her to go
find Maxi and bring him there. Then we talked, mostly about how she came to
be running an upscale gift shop in such a remote place. The girl came back
with the bad news - Maxi was gone, and from what I could understand, she
meant he was on a bender somewhere, and everyone was looking for him.

Anyhow, I'm trying to answer your question, not write a travelogue.
Batopilas, at the bottom of the canyon, was the high point of our trip. It
was once one of the richest towns in the world, and was second to only NYC
with a public electrical grid, along with one of the first public water
systems in Mexico (still operating, and quite fascinating). There are no
fancy restaurants, but everyone serves good food. Mostly, Batopilas has a
very cheery and friendly population, even by Mexico standards.

We spent another day in Creel: it was market day, and there was a festival
in the square. Creel is interesting in it's own way. It's a lumbering
town, and very much old-west in nature. Teenagers ride their dates double
on horses down the street, and pickups and SUVs rule the parking spots.
There's a little fried chicken place just off the square, and the chicken is
wonderful. Not sure what their spices are, but it's distinctive without
seeming foreign.

Leaving Creel, going the other way, we had another long train ride to
Cerocahui, where we stayed at a ranch run by Doug (Diego) Rhodes, and
American of no small charm. We met up there with a group on a tour with
California Native, and I was very surprised to learn that the guide was a
distant relative of mine.

This ranch is special in a lot of ways. The main hacienda is big and
inviting, has a paperback library of books in several languages, and it's an
actual hacienda. The rooms are arranged in a quadrangle, quite simple in
decor, yet all the amenities are there, including a woodstove and a supply
of firewood.

The first day, Doug himself took the two of us in his vehicle for a tour of
the area, then a descent to the town of Urique at the canyon bottom. This
was all on a paved road, and not nearly as dramatic as the road to
Batopilas, but that canyon is really at the green end of the Copper Canyon
complex, and my best photos of the trip are from there. The scenery is like
something I never imagined existed, and it was much easier to take in with a
fellow American as a guide. I don't speak bad Spanish, but I do miss
nuances, and that makes things lose meaning sometimes.

Urique is a tiny town, and it had been somewhat brutalized by the rains. We
walked around, had a nice lunch, then watched bulldozers and excavators as
they pushed the former contents of the river back into the river.

The ride back up, unlike from Batopilas, is more spectacular than the ride
down, only because you see the scenery where you came from, and it's more
varied than the other side fo the canyon.

This was our last chance for riding on the trip, and we were assured that
our horses would be outside and waiting when we awoke.

And they were, tethered to a rail right behind our room. We got acquainted,
led the animals to the hacienda, and had our breakfast. Then a ranch hand
was there to show us where to go. We rode for a solid four hours, saw a
little group of wild mustangs, a cave where a lot of people were buried, and
some of the most pleasant riding scenery anywhere.

After that, it was lunch, then back to the train for the too-long ride to El
Fuerte, where we stayed at the same hacienda, and had a car the next morning
to take us to Los Mochis for our flight to Mexico City.

California Native delivered on everything they promised that was under their
control. They had arranged our horses everywhere, but it was circumstance
and weather that interrupted that part of our trip. Otherwise, it was
great.

We went in November, when the difference between the rim and the canyon
bottom was extreme: 20F up top in Divisadero and 85F in Batopilas.

We made our own air arrangements

Keith



  #4  
Old August 11th, 2008, 10:51 PM posted to rec.travel.usa-canada
singlemalt
external usenet poster
 
Posts: 148
Default Copper Canyon trip

Thank you for your thorough report. J.








"John Kulp" wrote in message
...
On Sun, 10 Aug 2008 17:11:34 -0500, "K" wrote:


"singlemalt" wrote in message
news:C76dncZYCa8buQLVnZ2dnUVZ_uCdnZ2d@earthlink. com...
I am interested in a Copper Canyon trip and ran across an agent who calls
his company California Native. On paper it looks good but I would
appreciate anyone with first hand, or second hand, experience or
knowledge.
Please reply and I will share with you the secret of eternal youth.
Thanks,J.


Well, he asked you the time and you told him how to build a clock,
but, hey, it's a great travelogue!!



Hi,

We did a nearly two-week tour of Copper Canyon a few years ago, and used
California Native to arrange everything for us, although we went on our
own
and not with a group. The company did what I can call a perfect job. Our
route took us first to El Fuerte. We arrived late at night and spent the
next night there. It was election day, and there was a polling place
right
on the front verandah of our hacienda. There were a few hours of heavy
rain
in the afternoon, but having the constant stream of eager voters right
there
kept things interesting. We had booked horses to go along the river, but
the rains prevented that. We had a dry morning to look around the
interesting town, and spotted a nice looking restaurant where we had our
dinner.

We had tickets for a 6am departure on the train, but our request for a
wakeup call was laughed off at the desk, who said our breakfast would be
ready at 8, then a car would take us to the train. We were still the
first
ones to the station, but busloads of seniors soon filled the platform.

We were entertained by some schoolboys on horseback, who put on a little
fancy riding demonstration, then paraded by with their hats out, and those
hats were soon very heavy looking.

The train finally came. The tour groups, thankfully, had private cars in
the back of the train, and we found seats just behind the bar/snack car,
which was just behind the dining car. The train is quite nice, with
fairly
new equipment, comfortable seats, and clean windows.

Our destination was Divisadero that day, and it was literally a day trip
to
get there. The train is slow, desperately slow sometimes, but the journey
is remarkable. Our gray morning became a very rainy day before long, but
rather than the rain putting a damper on our enjoyment, we were rewarded
with views of vernal falls everywhere. There were hundreds and more
hundreds of cascades where they don't normally exist, so the already
spellbinding scenery was made even moreso, despite the rain. There was a
standing area between the bar car and dining car, with a long, glassless
window on each side, so photography was possible even with rain streaking
down the windows.

We were one second late deciding it was lunch time, and were nearly
flattened by a horde of seniors. It was another hour before we could get
a
meal. The food was good - prepared to order and not particularly
expensive.
When the weather cleared, we pulled onto a siding while an odd train
passed
in the other direction. There was an engine, followed by flatcar after
flatcar, and on the flatcars were RVs of all manner and size. Since their
occupants hadn't been in the rain yet, they were hanging out on the
flatcars, with drinks and snacks, enjoying the scenery.

I never looked into that train, but any RVers reading this might be
interested enough to look it up The nearest that train could have come
from
is Creel, but there are roads to all the stops between Creel and
Chihuahua.

We finally reached Divisadero late in the afternoon. It was dark out, and
it was snowing. Our hotel was down a ramp to the canyon rim, and to the
left, and our room was reached by a rickety-looking wooden platform to a
block of rooms perched right on the canyon rim. It was dark, so there was
no sightseeing that night.

We checked at the hotel desk to ensure that our horseback rides scheduled
for the next day, and were told everything was set. This hotel was styled
like a ski lodge, with massive beams, and great stone fireplaces
everywhere.
The restaurant was brighter, and the food was very good. After eating, we
relaxed in a fireplaced nook with drinks, and chatted with a couple from
Manitoba who we recognized from the train.

The next morning, I rose early and pulled the drapes to see our view for
the
first time. I think it was my gasp that woke my wife. We got ready
quickly
and went out onto our deck, which had a dropoff of something like 6,000 ft
from there to the canyon bottom. There was mist rising through the
sunbeams, and light reached further down into the canyon by the minute.
We
finally had to tear ourselves from that to get cleaned up for breakfast

We were at the appointed spot for our horseback ride on time, but a lady
from the hotel came to see us, saying that our horses had been let out two
days earlier because of the storm, and nobody could find them. She
pointed
to a small group of people nearby and said the hotel would provide a guide
for a walking tour, and we could tip him a peso each if we wanted to.

We went on the tour. The guide was young and didn't really speak English,
and didn't want to speak in Spanish, so he was pretty mute for most of the
tour, but things were self-evident for the most part. We were in some
deep
woods on the canyon rim when we came on a clearing, perhaps a mile long.
It
was the airport. The drugs airport.

Divisadero isn't a town, it's a train stop. There are hotels, a store/gas
station, and a few ranches. Thus, I was intrigued when we came on what
looked like a millpond in New England, complete with waterwheel and a red
building. I finally got the guide to speak in Spanish, and he said the
building was erected 100 years ago to crush grain. It was built by the
government for use by the Tarahuamara Indians (pronounce Tara-Mara) who
soon
went back to their mortar and pestle ways. It spent time as an illegal
distillery, a school building, and the government is once again trying to
convince the Indians to market products there, instead of on sidewalks and
dangerous cliffside perches.

We went for a second cliffside tour later that day, and stretched it until
dusk. We were up on a high point when our guide pointed out a rancho in
the
distance and said it was his home. Then he held out his hand to shake,
and
fully intended to leave us there in the dark. I was bigger than this guy,
and my wife can argue quite well in Spanish, so he finally brought us
back.
I gave him five bucks, when what he deserved was my size 11 in his
backside.

The next morning we packed up, then wandered some more, finding the
Divisadero ladder, which the Indians use to go to and from their villages,
about 1,000 feet below the rim, and in tiers to the canyon bottom.

The train came in late afternoon, so we just sat in the bar car for the
short trip to Creel, where we stayed in a comfy new chain-hotel, but in
lodge-like accomodations, complete with our own gas stove for heating.

We had a nice meal, but apparently some toxic corn chowder. That was all
we
had in common, and we were quite distressed for a while, until the Imodium
took effect.

The next morning, a young Mexican guy in a new Suburban picked us up for
our
first real 'adventure' of the trip - the ride to Batopilas at the bottom
of
the canyon. Before the turnoff into the canyon proper, we were shown a
waterfall by going off-road, and following the river IN the river until we
got close, then we walked. It was a pretty place, and we enjoyed a bit of
a
snack there, then back to the car for our descent.

The pavement ends very shortly after the turnoff for Batopilas. After
that,
both literally and figuratively, it's all downhill from there, and what a
HILL. We stopped frequently, sometimes at our request, other times to let
uphill-bound vehicles go by, and often because cars in front of us were
stopped.

The road is evil. The scenery is spectacular, and ever-changing as you
descend The road hadn't escaped the damaging rains of the previous few
days, and there were washouts where even our dark-skinned driver looked
white and wide-eyed.

Once at the canyon bottom, spectacular is replaced by what seems
impossible.
It's beautiful: green like a jungle, yet with the fantastic canyon scenery
rising above, in every direction. The Batopilas canyon, and the town of
Batopilas are named after the Batopilas river, which was truly raging when
we arrived. We were driven through the pretty-much one road town to our
hotel, Julia's, which has only two or three rooms, no phone or restaurant,
and a very simple room. That room has a wide veranda, though, and it
overhangs the Batopilas river as much as our room in Divisadero overhung
the
canyon.

It was wild, and hard to leave that porch for any reason. There were
goatherders across the river, leading what seemed an endles parade of
goats
home from wherever they'd been foraging, and just a canyon wall over
there.
There was a mangled jeep in the middle of the river, and it still held
paint, so it was probably a storm-related wrect. It was the force and the
sound of that water that was so mesmerizing.

We eventually tore ourselves away to look for Maxi, the rancher who was to
take us trail riding the next day. All we had was the heard name over the
phone, so not even a proper spelling. However, walking through town
looking
for the tourist desk, we were greeted by an American woman at the door to
a
gift shop. Surprised by her presence, we talked for a bit, then mentioned
we were looking for Maxi about horseback riding.

She called to a young girl, and gave her a coin while she told her to go
find Maxi and bring him there. Then we talked, mostly about how she came
to
be running an upscale gift shop in such a remote place. The girl came
back
with the bad news - Maxi was gone, and from what I could understand, she
meant he was on a bender somewhere, and everyone was looking for him.

Anyhow, I'm trying to answer your question, not write a travelogue.
Batopilas, at the bottom of the canyon, was the high point of our trip.
It
was once one of the richest towns in the world, and was second to only NYC
with a public electrical grid, along with one of the first public water
systems in Mexico (still operating, and quite fascinating). There are no
fancy restaurants, but everyone serves good food. Mostly, Batopilas has a
very cheery and friendly population, even by Mexico standards.

We spent another day in Creel: it was market day, and there was a festival
in the square. Creel is interesting in it's own way. It's a lumbering
town, and very much old-west in nature. Teenagers ride their dates double
on horses down the street, and pickups and SUVs rule the parking spots.
There's a little fried chicken place just off the square, and the chicken
is
wonderful. Not sure what their spices are, but it's distinctive without
seeming foreign.

Leaving Creel, going the other way, we had another long train ride to
Cerocahui, where we stayed at a ranch run by Doug (Diego) Rhodes, and
American of no small charm. We met up there with a group on a tour with
California Native, and I was very surprised to learn that the guide was a
distant relative of mine.

This ranch is special in a lot of ways. The main hacienda is big and
inviting, has a paperback library of books in several languages, and it's
an
actual hacienda. The rooms are arranged in a quadrangle, quite simple in
decor, yet all the amenities are there, including a woodstove and a supply
of firewood.

The first day, Doug himself took the two of us in his vehicle for a tour
of
the area, then a descent to the town of Urique at the canyon bottom. This
was all on a paved road, and not nearly as dramatic as the road to
Batopilas, but that canyon is really at the green end of the Copper Canyon
complex, and my best photos of the trip are from there. The scenery is
like
something I never imagined existed, and it was much easier to take in with
a
fellow American as a guide. I don't speak bad Spanish, but I do miss
nuances, and that makes things lose meaning sometimes.

Urique is a tiny town, and it had been somewhat brutalized by the rains.
We
walked around, had a nice lunch, then watched bulldozers and excavators as
they pushed the former contents of the river back into the river.

The ride back up, unlike from Batopilas, is more spectacular than the ride
down, only because you see the scenery where you came from, and it's more
varied than the other side fo the canyon.

This was our last chance for riding on the trip, and we were assured that
our horses would be outside and waiting when we awoke.

And they were, tethered to a rail right behind our room. We got
acquainted,
led the animals to the hacienda, and had our breakfast. Then a ranch hand
was there to show us where to go. We rode for a solid four hours, saw a
little group of wild mustangs, a cave where a lot of people were buried,
and
some of the most pleasant riding scenery anywhere.

After that, it was lunch, then back to the train for the too-long ride to
El
Fuerte, where we stayed at the same hacienda, and had a car the next
morning
to take us to Los Mochis for our flight to Mexico City.

California Native delivered on everything they promised that was under
their
control. They had arranged our horses everywhere, but it was circumstance
and weather that interrupted that part of our trip. Otherwise, it was
great.

We went in November, when the difference between the rim and the canyon
bottom was extreme: 20F up top in Divisadero and 85F in Batopilas.

We made our own air arrangements

Keith





 




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