CXX. Un Viaje a las Barrancas del Cobre

A Trip to Copper Canyon

For years I'd heard about this canyon complex in northern Mexico that's touted as "longer and deeper than the Grand Canyon". With my first sight of that Arizona wonder I was so stunned I literally fell on my ass. With this in mind, I was really looking forward to seeing how Mexico's version would compare.

The El Chepe train runs about 450 miles between the cities of Los Mochis on the Pacific coast and Chihuahua in the center of Mexico.  It gains almost 8,000 feet of altitude traveling west to east through the large Copper Canyon area. We flew into Chihuahua and caught the train there. The scene here is several hours out of that city as we moved west from high plains to pine forest foothills. 

Adding to my curiosity was the mystique of Copper Canyon's indigenous inhabitants--the Tarahumara. Their prowess at super long distance running is legendary even though they often run barefoot, or in sandals, and the women even run wearing long skirts. Adding to the above enticements, most of the trip into and through the canyons takes place by train. That sealed the deal for my adventurous wife and me. We made reservations with a local tour outfit and just returned two weeks ago.

Fields of corn in alluvial soil, goats, small houses with an outbuilding or two. There are few towns in an area about the size of Ohio, but many scattered dwellings like this that, together, shelter over 50,000 Tarahumara, or Rarámuri.

At my first sight of the canyons I didn't fall on my ass but the scenery really was amazing, the local culture much stronger and more interesting than we'd imagined, and the train ride a lot of fun. The only problem: we both caught a historic flu that laid us up all of the final day in a darkened and air-conditioned, dizzy and barfy hotel room in Chihuahua, after being shunned for our racking coughs by the rest of the tourists during an interminable bus ride: another reason this trip will always be memorable.

Being forewarned by our tour guide that the Rarámuri do not like to have their faces photographed, I snuck this picture of back of two girls to show their typical dress. They are standing near the train station at Divisadero in the heart of the canyons. Nearby are the goods that they sell, primarily sewn and woven wares. Plus two half-drunken bottles of Coke.

This incredible sunset view is from the balcony of our room at Divisadero's El Mirador Hotel. Barrancas del Cobre actually comprises six canyons. This part of Urique Canyon (pictured) is the most accessible and colloquially known as Copper Canyon. Not visible in the picture are several ziplines and cables supporting a car that runs from mid-left in the photo to mid-far right. Tarahumara dwellings can be seen at the bottom of the cliff far left and--barely--in the valley lower right.

View down to a small town at the bottom of Urique Canyon from over a mile above.
Seeing these two crosses clutched at my heart. They are most likely for a pair of
engineers (ingenieros) who met their end in an accident during construction. D.E.P.
stands for Descansa En Paz--Rest in Peace.

We stayed at Hotel Mirador (view above) for two nights and recommend it highly--fantastic location in Divisadero, the kind of rooms (and pillows) you like to find, excellent food and service. I had thought of trying one of the zip lines leaving from the ecopark below the hotel, but after standing at the edge of a nearby cliff felt that perhaps my bladder control wouldn't hold up in the first leap into the void. The cable car sufficed.

The third day of our trip we bussed several hours to the small town of Cerocahui deeper into the canyon complex. There we toured a residential school for Tarahumara girls, sampled the local wines at another luxury hotel, and took a hair-raising ride on a narrow, twisty road with views (see photo, left) of the deepest part of Urique Canyon, over 6000 feet below.

The weather on the rim is much different from that at the bottom of the canyon. This is especially marked in the winter when there is often snow up above, and sunny warmth below that even allows the cultivation of tropical fruits. Access down from near here is via a ten mile dirt road, consisting mostly of hairpin turns, that takes more than an hour to negotiate.

I met this smiling fellow as I began a final stroll around Cerocahui; he introduced himself as Juan, and as a chabochi, or mestizo, in the Rarámuri language. Although the tour bus was leaving in half an hour I took him up on an offer to give me a quick tour around town. He hollered a greeting to everyone we passed, each time vouching to me that the other individual was un amigo cercano, a close friend.

We had anticipated that our bus ride would be less than an hour to the nearby town of Bahuichivo (above) where train tracks had led us to believe we would change modes of transportation for the next leg of our journey. There was a collective groan on the bus when it became clear that we had another couple of hours on the same winding road we had driven to Cerocahui. Torrential rains a couple of weeks earlier had resulted in dam spill upriver which brought down mudslides closing the rails. So no train here.

In Divisadero we finally met the train that would take us east. Now we could ride in comfort the rest of the afternoon on our way to the largest town in the Tarahumara area, Creel.

After a night in Creel we awoke early to get a closeup look at the lowland Tarahumara country and way of life. This beautiful lake reflecting a deep blue sky, the surrounding pine forest and inviting rocks all reminded me of country back home in Washington State. As soon as our tour bus pulled into the parking lot, however, that vision was broken when several Rarámuri women hurried to set up their wares on blankets laid out under the trees. Fortunately they had a receptive audience.

Near Creel, San Ignacio Jesuit mission is surrounded by a couple dozen dwellings, including a community center. The area also includes some fantastic wind-eroded rock formations. Above you see a sample of the rocks in Valle de las Ranas--Valley of the Frogs so named because of their shape.

In the photo you see a typical Tarahumara cave dwelling. It's created by walling off a large natural recess at the base of a cliff.  We met a single mom who lived there with her teenage son, aunt and sister. The whole family catered to tourists from nearby Creel, selling a variety of small crafts and baked goods. The young mom had been raised in the States, spoke excellent English, and had moved here several years ago. I couldn't imagine how she might have adjusted to living in this close and dark cave after life in southern California.