Copper Canyon ~ Derek's Travels

As much as I liked the tranquil seaside town of La Paz, I only have a limited amount of time in Mexico, so I decided that it was time to move on and see more of what this varied country has to offer. Being on the Southern end of the long Baja peninsula, I opted for the ferry across to the mainland instead of a 20 hour bus ride up to Tijuana and then over to the mainland. After a quick bus ride up the coast, I was in Pichilingue, ready for the ferry to depart. The six to seven hour ride didn't sound like much fun, so I was very tempted to pay twice the price to get a cabin with nice seats and perhaps a bed, but I couldn't quite justify it. Fortunately, I made the right decision. Despite looking a bit shoddy, the ferry ride wasn't bad at all. There was a restaurant, bar, and a sitting room, showing bad American movies with Spanish subtitles the whole time, much like the situation with the buses. As the slow moving boat made its way across the water, we were treated to a few nice views of the deserted coastline and a few beaches before moving into open water and eventually watching the sun fall below the horizon. Midway through the trip, an announcement that the restaurant was about to close spurred me to go downstairs for a meal, which turned out to be a great decision. A combo of beans, rice, barley and some other unknown ingredients all wrapped in a few tortillas actually tasted pretty good, and I couldn't complain about the price. For a few minutes, I was thinking that I had acquired one of the cheapest meals ever, but I soon checked my receipt and realized that the meal was included with the ticket price, and I only had to pay for my drink. Still, I was pleased with the meal, and the six and a half hour trip wasn't as painful as it might sound. Unfortunately, the final movie shown, after a horrible one and another Jean Claude Van Damme movie, was actually a good one called Deja Vu with Denzel Washington. The unfortunate part about it was that just as the movie was reaching its exciting climax, the tvs all cut off and remained off for the final 20 or 30 minutes of maneuvering through the port and docking...plenty of time in which we could have finished the movie.

Going downstairs just before departing, I found the real party, around the bar. Some locals with tons of empty beer cans and shot glasses were singing and dancing to the jukebox music, having a great time. As fun as that was for them, it meant drunk, pushy guys in the line to leave and pick up our bags, so I stood by as they pushed their way past me in line, one by one. Eventually, I made it to the transfer bus, along with a nice English woman that I met named Michelle who had been studying Spanish in La Paz for a month. The two of us boarded the bus inland, arriving in the small, typically Mexican town of Los Mochis around 11 that night. Disgusted at the price of the taxis into town, we decided to walk the short distance to our potential hotel. Along the way, we were greeted by a friendly Mexican teenager on his bicycle who seemed anxious to tell us all about what his town had to offer, local legends of spirits on the hilltop and more. Half expecting him to ask for some money or something at the end of our walk, he simply wished us well and was off, and I was pleasantly surprised by his genuine hospitality and friendliness. Soon, we got our hotel rooms, both opting for the cheapest ones, and I entered my room to find the hottest single room in my life. It was as if the heater were on, and I was soon drenched in sweat as I urged the overhead fan to spin faster. I opened the windows, and it was significantly cooler outside, but the cool air refused to enter, so I spent a hot night lying on top of the covers, hoping for the relief of a cool breeze. Fortunately, we had to leave at 5:30 in the morning anyway, so the mostly sleepless night didn't last too long. We took a taxi to the train station, and we were soon on the tracks, heading up to Copper Canyon, on what is described as one of the ten best railroads in the world. The first part of the journey was not all that impressive, other than the nice rising sun. Alongside the tracks were tiny shanty homes made of plywood, corrugated steel, old billboards or any other sturdy material. These miniature houses, along with tiny pens for some livestock, were another reminder of the true poverty that exists in Mexico. Many say that this is one of the places with the worst separation of rich and poor, where the corruption and political favors keep the rich with the money and away from the poor, providing few opportunities for them to work their way out of the troubling situations in which they live. A few hours later, the flat countryside had morphed into large hills and river valleys, hinting at the canyons and ravines that were to come. The cabin of the train cars was comfortable also, allowing us to walk around as we pleased and even get some open air views of the ride from between the cars. In addition, a few vendors boarded the train at the stops, so I had an excellent set of three tamales (boiled corn meal wrapped in the corn husk) filled with pineapple for about $2.50. The passing scenery, though, was the main attraction. The railroad through Copper Canyon (Barranca del Cobre) crosses through something like 87 tunnels and 36 bridges while traversing steep canyon walls and following the path of a small, rocky river. Soon, the towering peaks surrounded us on all sides, with peaks of rock jutting out from the lushly forested mountains. Despite being so far North in Mexico, the vegetation was that of semi-tropical rainforests, and I was in awe of the views. The steep, rounded off mountain tops falling sharply down to the river actually reminded me of some pictures that I've seen of Machu Picchu in Peru, the ancient city of the Incas, though I've never actually been there, so you'd have to ask Paul or Ethan about that.

About 2/3 of the way through the train ride, we stopped at a place called Divisadero, which couldn't really even be described as a town. It is basically a small market set up to cater to the trains that stop a few times a day, with the indigenous local people trying to sell delicious food, necklaces, hand-woven baskets, bracelets, cheesy t-shirts, etc. The local people are easy to spot with very brightly colored clothing, with the women usually wearing a scarf with a design of a few different pinks or greens, a long, very colorful dress with blues, reds, greens, pinks, purples, and anything and everything else and then the typical sandals of the region, with soles made from old tires and a few strings wrapped around the foot and ankle. Of course, their physical features are also different from the mestizo Mexicans, who are descendants of both Europeans and the indigenous people, and there is often discrimination against the darker indigenous people. The locals of this region, the Tarahumara, are well known for their amazing abilities to run long distances. In fact, one of their games involves running at these moderately high elevations, up and down through valleys for over 100 miles, all the while kicking along a small wooden ball about the size of a baseball. I would have liked to have taken some pictures of the colorful costumes of the local people, but I still feel like that's a bit like exploiting them, and I don´t feel comfortable gawking at the norms of other cultures. Gawking at the extremes of our own culture is fine, just not others. Anyway, this small market town opened up to us, heading downhill for one block from the train station, lined with vendors, before a small railing and dropping off about 1,000 feet into the true Copper Canyon.

The views from this spot were incredible. Said to be four times bigger than the Grand Canyon, Copper Canyon is actually an area made up of 18 different canyons, and it truly is impressive. Puffy white clouds were coming in for the afternoon, as the canyon sprawled out below me. Whereas the Grand Canyon sports shades of red, orange and purple, Copper Canyon seems to have chosen more of a green, white and brown look. Good choice. The views down into the canyon were amazing, with rock formations, groups of trees, houses on clifftops across the valley and more. Unfortunately, I only had 15 minutes to take in this incredible place, but I was cherishing every second of this magnificent vista. (Vista is Spanish for view...see, now you know Spanish. I'll give you a few other easy ones - taco, hola, gracias, computadora. That's about it.) Before boarding the train, I couldn't resist a few cheap burritos, so I grabbed my food and headed for the dining car just as we started to roll forward. Eventually, the scenery began to morph as we climbed higher and higher. Soon, the canyons and tropical feel had given way to rocky valleys and fields of grass and corn. The forests were now loosely distributed pine trees, looking a bit like the wilderness of Colorado or Northern Arizona, which I guess would make sense. Another hour or so, and we arrived in Creel, a mountain town of about 5,000 people that is a base for many of the travellers in the area. Afraid that it might be overrun with obnoxious tourists, both Michelle and I decided that we weren't going to stay in the popular hostel, despite the pushy locals at the train station, urging us one by one to go there. They advertised free meals, good deals, etc and also told us that the other places didn't clean their bathrooms and were disgusting. I figured that I'd take the chance.

Once we got to our deserted guest house, we soon found that nothing could be further from the truth about the cleanliness of the place. The owner was, as our other Italian housemate described her, a cleaning maniac. Sweeping the floor every few minutes, sweeping the dirt and puddles outside the house, pushing the rocks back and forth, making your bed minutes after you had woken up...you know, her motivation and cleanliness reminded me of myself (as you can see by the timeliness of my blogs). The quiet house was great, and she even had a local women cook breakfast and dinner for us during our two day stay there for a small price. Getting away from the crowds is always good for me, and I was happy to give this lady some business as opposed to the pushy people (who later turned out to be fairly nice, also) at the competing Casa Margarita. The other amazing thing about the place was the nice, hot showers. It´s incredible how little things like that become such a big deal when travelling on a budget...