Days 52 Through 54: Hiking Batopilas To Urique To Creel (aka We Got Robbed And All Is Well)

We were all ready to leave by 5 am, but Don Librado was nowhere to be seen.  Just as we were lamenting that we might have gotten duped, we heard the clip clop of our burro's feet and by 5:30 am we were off.  Turns out that Don Librado's horse had escaped in the night and he had to go find him.  It was a pleasure to hike without our full packs with a gorgeous sunrise and the resplendent views of the Urique canyon behind us.

Our awesome and somewhat stubborn burro.

A lil bit o' Don Quixote, no?  Don Librado leads us on his horse.  This southerly trail follows the spine of the canyon rim offering some of the most scenic panoramas we've ever seen.

I take a moment to bid Batopilas goodbye.

The trail is a bit more technical than the one we took before... here we have some slickrock mixed in with the narrow rocky trails.

We made it to the summit of Cerro La Bufa in about 3.5 hours.  Don Librado looked overjoyed to have arrived so quickly.  Apparently, many of his clients take up to 7 hours to get to this point and he told us we were some of the fasted hikers he has ever guided.  We took advantage of the 360 panorama while we ate and rested.

Breakfast break on top of Cerro La Bufa, the highest peak (photo credit: Emmanuel).

Don Librado keeps vigilance over us.

We head down after breakfast for some rolling hills over the mesa.

Refilling water at an aguaje (fresh water spring).  We were glad to have the water filter as this water source a little sickly looking with the dry season.

Shortly after this water break, a younger guy dressed in fancy duds with a radio attached to his belt came up to Don Librado on his horse and chatted with him for a while.  At first, we thought they might have been friends, but in retrospect, Don Librado seemed a bit nervous after this and we felt like he was rushing us to push on.  We think that this guy had told him we shouldn't be here, most likely telling him that he was to leave us where he had agreed to leave us and that he needed to leave.

Our hike then took us through some areas that had been burnt down not too long before we got to Mesa Larga, where we had agreed that Don Librado would show us how to get down and we would continue on our own.  When I asked Don Librado why the fires had been set, he tersely told me it was to prepare the ground to cultivate beans.  I didn't think much of it at the time, but we realized later that this land was being prepared for a marijuana crop.

Hiking through cinders.

We arrive to Mesa Larga and Don Lidrado points out where there is a water source as well as the path to get down to the road to Urique.

Don Librado seemed in a hurry to leave, but we thought at the time it was because we had arrived to this point so early in the day (around noon) and that he was going to be able to get back to Batopilas that same day instead of having to camp with us that night.  However, the area we had reached was beautiful with a water source, so we decided it would be best to rest, take advantage of having cooler weather at altitude, and do the demanding descent when we were all refreshed.

Hammock time with a beautiful view.  This photo was taken about 20 minutes before we got robbed.

All seemed great in the world, we had a beautiful hike up, a gorgeous spot to camp, and then two young guys came up on me with their faces covered, one with a knife and the other with an ancient looking pistol.

"Go down!"

I looked directly at the guy holding the knife and pretended not to understand and said very loudly in English that I didn't understand, hoping to alert Gonzalo and Emmanuel, who had their hammocks set up a distance away.  He wasn't more than 20 years old and it was clear he didn't really know how to use the knife from his stance and the way he left his entire body exposed (ah, thank you martial arts training for that, it gave me some comfort this guy wasn't well versed in hurting people).

"Don't look at me, do you want me to hurt you?  Go down!  Don't touch your things, just go down!"

I got down from my hammock and started walking down.  At this point I was a bit worried that these guys were going to make us leave all of our things and start hiking down the mountain with no water.  By this time, Gonzalo and Emmanuel realized that something was wrong and Gonzalo started walking towards me.  Then they told us to go to sit under a tree down the hill and wait with our backs turned to them.  Emmanuel grabbed my hand as we walked down.

Once we were sitting under the tree, we realized that Gonzalo still had his wallet.  He took out the cash, which Emmanuel put in his shoe under the sole, and Gonzalo put his ID and debit card in his shoe.  Then he buried his wallet under some brush.  After a while, the robbers came back and started chatting with us.

"What do you have in your pockets?  "Why are you here?  Where are you from?  Where is your wallet?"

And then Gonzalo came up with the most ingenious lie.  He told them he left his wallet in Urique and when they asked where he kept his cash, he told them I was carrying cash for the both of us.  In some ways, it was lucky I was carrying as much as I was because it made the lie seem more plausible, and they didn't question him any further about it.

Then they told us we had to go down.  At least leave the water, we asked.  They told us that they didn't take anything other than our cash.  We could take our time getting our stuff together and getting water, but that we needed to leave the mountain and get to the road today.  They told us they would be waiting and watching to make sure we left.  Don't tell anyone what happened when you get down.

When we got back to our hammocks, everything had been torn out of our bags and strewn about.  But sure enough, other than the camping knives and two of the headlamps, our cameras, camping gear, credit cards, and identification were all there.  Packing quickly, we headed to the spring to fill our water (once again incredibly grateful we had brought the water filter because this water source was even worse than the first) and by 3 pm we had started down the mountain.

It was a long, technical, and grueling descent made worse because it was the hottest part of the day.  I mentally thanked my Ironman training for giving me the endurance for this hike because all said and done, we hiked nearly 20 miles that day, from 5:30 am to 8:40 pm, with over 2000 meters (6500 feet) of climbing and the same descending.  And we made it to the road and another little spring near the little ranches at Naranjo, all the way to the Urique river just in time before it got dark.  We were all walking zombies and a bit delirious from dehydration and exhaustion by this point.

Up near the white rock is Mesa Larga where we got robbed.

Never happier to reach a road... dusk arrives and we make our way down to the river.

Our first order of business was to jump into the river and then to rehydrate.  I had a couple emergency rehydration salt packets in my first aid kit that I had put together once upon a time over a year ago for this trip.  We gulped down the rehydration salts, ate dinner, and tried to sleep. I maybe got two hours of sleep because I woke up every time I heard any sort of noise.

We got an early groggy start, hoping that a truck would pass by so we could hitch a ride to Urique.  No such luck, but we made it back to Urique by noon.  This long stretch from Naranjo to Urique is also a leg of the Caballo Blanco ultramarathon, though I didn't appreciate it quite as much as I did the trail to Los Alisos.  We made a small splurge from Gonzalo's cash supply for cold drinks... my grapefruit soda tasted like unicorn tears.

Morning on the Urique river.

We all walked through the gate of Entre Amigos together, thinking yes, exactly that... entre amigos.  Maruca welcomed us in and we asked if Tomás was around.  Our faces fell when we found out he was out of town for a couple days.  He had promised to help find us a cheap way to transport us and our bikes up to Bahuichivo.  Emmanuel suggested that we try to see if there was anything the municipal government could do to help us.  I was skeptical, but it was worth a shot.

Eduardo Armando Agüero Villalobos, the personal secretary to the president of the municipality saw us and listened to our story.  We knew that no legal action would be taken, the rule of law here is basically nonexistent.  What we hoped was that he could help us find someone to transport us and our bikes as close to Creel as possible.  Although there is public transport out of Urique to Bauichivo, we were concerned the bus would not take three bikes plus all of the panniers.  He called around and said he might have someone who could take us all the way to Creel and then invited us to eat at the Restaurante Plaza, where Emmanuel and I gorged ourselves silly on shrimp.  Armando came by Entre Amigos that night to say that the ride had fallen through, but that the municipality would cover the cost for us to take the bus La Ruta to Bauichivo and make sure our gear would get on.  The kind folks at Entre Amigos did not charge us to stay the night.

The bus driver for La Ruta gave us a little crap for having so much stuff, but finally relented when we said that Armando had given us his assurances and explained what had happened.  Armando swung by to quickly see us off.

We made it up to Bauichivo, happy to not have to ride the long winding road up as it surely it would have taken three days to climb out with no water sources available on the long climb.  Gonzalo and I decided we would take the train to Creel because although the road was mostly paved, the ride to Creel would likely take two days and we hadn't had a good night sleep in days.  Emmanuel was itching to ride so we gave him some money and off he went with assurances that he would call us when he got to Creel.

It was a mad dash to get the train as the economy class cars were completely full, forcing us to go first class in order to get a seat and to have space for our bikes.  We had found out that although there is no bank, you can get cash at the grocery store and I was lucky to have been able to withdraw cash for hefty 5% commission just minutes before La Ruta left or we would probably not have had enough money for the tickets and would be forced to ride to Creel where there is a bank.

The view at the infamous stop Divisadero... they stop the train for 15 minutes for everyone to rush off to take a picture and get snacks.  We rushed only to think... well, we've seen better...

Then at long last, we arrived to the gloriously temperate Creel, with its warm sunny days and cool refreshing nights.  After battling the crowds to get off the train, we put our bikes back together, found a nice place to stay, and then lo and behold, I got a phone call.  Emmanuel had made it to Creel shortly after us.  He had ridden two torturous hours when he was offered a ride by a pickup truck.

A few thoughts about safety and traveling in Chihuahua, Mexico:

• The takeaway from these past few days is that shit happens, not that Mexico is dangerous.  Every country has places that are more risky than others.  The U.S. is no exception.  My former home of Washington DC has neighborhoods where the crime rates are higher than almost anywhere else in the U.S.  We have shootings in schools and bombings at marathons, places where people should feel safe.  This is the first time I have had anything happen to me in all my years of travel.  I chose to travel in an area that I know has almost no rule of law with the full knowledge that there had been robberies along these hiking trails.  I made my decision based on local intel that things were safer these days.  We experienced the best and worst of Mexico all in just a few days.  Two barely grown men who decided to take the opportunity to get some cash cannot erase all of the random acts of kindness we experienced from the ranchers in the area.  In no way do I regret my decision to do this hike.   

• My take on the whole situation is that we got too close to the marijuana fields of a local drug gang and that the guys were sent to make sure we weren't part of a rival drug gang and then to make us leave and that they took the opportunity to get some money.  It didn't make sense for them to leave all of the cameras, Gonzalo's laptop, Gonzalo's fancy cell phone, and everything else.  They seemed like they did not want to draw too much attention to this robbery, and perhaps taking everything would have.

• I do not blame Don Librado one bit.  He has to live this reality of lawlessness and we don't know the whole story.  My take is that the guy on the horse told him he was not to tell us anything, that he was just to take us to our agreed place and leave us.  

• Would I recommend visiting the Copper Canyons and Urique?  Absolutely.  What happened in a remote area has nothing to do with how safe the more populated and touristed towns.   

• Would I recommend the hike between Urique and Batopilas?  This one is tricky.  Many people have had done this hike with no problems.  My goal in this blog post is to put all the information out there so people can make their own decisions based on up-to-date information.  Some might feel more comforted by taking a guide while this may deter others in doing the hike completely.  For those who would do this hike, leave your passport and some cash in Urique (or Batopilas if that is where you staying).  Although I had split my money and cards between different parts of my gear, they sifted through everything very thoroughly.

Day 51: Batopilas

Urique and Batopilas are like two bizarre parallel universes nestled at the bottom of their respective canyons.  While both towns feel like places out of time, Batopilas feels too clean, too picturesque, too perfect, and oddly reminiscent of the town in the movie Pleasantville.  Brand new pickup trucks pass through the streets.  Kids skip through the streets in their matching uniforms.  On the plaza are dozens of little girls led by nuns dancing and singing religious songs.  When we ask where to buy beer, the storekeeper looks at us with disdain and tells us we have to go to a bar, as if to say, where only the bad people go.  Oddly missing are the ubiquitous street carts selling delicious antijitos.  We found out that conservative Manuel Goméz Morín, who founded the National Action Party along with the Roman Catholics, was born here.

Morín was born here.  Just across the street is the store where they gave us dirty looks for asking where to buy beer.

Antique Coca Cola sign out of time.

Our first order of business was to figure out how to get back to Urique.  We thought we may be able to hire or hitch a ride back, but after spending all morning asking around town, it seemed that no one went towards the direction of Urique.  The one public transport option out of Batopilas headed to Creel and then take two days to make our way on buses get back to Urique.  One guy said he would take us to La Yesca for an exorbitant price.  Another said he was going to Urique, but he had to wait for some friends to arrive to Batopilas and he had no idea when they would arrive.  We could also wake up at 4 am, start walking up the road and hope to hitch a ride, but if we couldn't it would be a long waterless road to arrive to La Yesca.  None of these seemed particularly appealing.  I started feeling like we were in the Twilight Zone and that we were never going to get out.

When chatted up the shopkeeper at the general store near the main plaza, he recommended a local guide named Don Librado who could take us to the summit.  We went to Don Librado's home and talked to him.  He offered us a fair price to take us with a pack mule through the more complicated southerly route we had seen on Tomás' maps to a point where he would show us how to descend back to Urique.  After some thought, we decided this wouldn't be so bad, since we wouldn't have to carry our packs up the worst of the climb.

The antiquated cash register at the general store across from our hotel.  The shopkeeper was friendly and proudly pulled out a copy of a small town U.S. newspaper which had his picture in it.  The article featured Romayne Wheeler, a German composer and pianist who built a house atop the Batopilas canyon rim because he was so inspired by the views.

Emmanuel enjoying an ice cold orange beverage given to us by the little girls after they finished their religious song and dance performance.  This was actually taken the day we arrived, I figure posting pictures out of chronological order is no stranger than this town.

Sunset on the plaza the we arrived.

After we finalized our plans with Don Librado to be our guide for the hike back to Urique, Emmanuel and Gonzalo both expressed an interest in going to the old Batopilas Mining Company ruins.  The history of this mining company is fascinating.  It turns out that the "glory days" of Batopilas started when the former governor of Washington DC Alexander Shepard purchased and consolidated over 350 mining claims into the company.  As a result of investments made by the company, Batopilas had the first hydroelectric plant in Mexico and was the second city in the country to have electricity, second only to Mexico City.  Batopilas was also the first town in Mexico to have telephones (although they were an internal circuit for the company, they would not have external telephone service until 1995).  The company went into decline when the Mexican Revolution started in 1910.

View of the Hacienda, which served as the central operations for Shepard's company. 

It was a bit confusing figuring out how to get in... turns out you have to go around to the house and pay the family there to go in.

Emmanuel is fascinated by natural house constructions because he builds earth and adobe houses.

We also found the outhouse!

This girl was our caretaker.  She followed us everywhere and made sure we didn't do anything we weren't supposed to do.

Baby moo moo!

The ruins were full of tree roots overtaking the structures.  These reminded me a bit of the trees at Angkor Wat.

Crossing the Batopilas river back to town from the mines.

We arrived back to our hotel just in time to melt into a senseless stupor as the hottest part of day arrived.  Later, we would make a half-hearted attempt to find a dance we had heard about, but called it quits early so we could make our 4:30 am wake-up call to start hiking back to Urique with Don Librado.

A few travel notes for cyclists:

• I'm pretty sure there is actually a way to hitch a ride back to Urique as we bumped into a guy we had seen in Urique who had hitched a ride to Batopilas.  The only thing is that I think you need to wake up at 4 am and know the community, who goes where and at what time.  As tourists, it may prove exceedingly difficult.  This is to say, if you are going to hike to Batopilas, make sure you are prepared to make it a round trip! 

• Bolis are a delicious treat on a hot day.  They are basically flavored icey concoctions. My favorite was pistachio.

Days 48 Through 50: Hiking From Urique To Batopilas

With our bikes safely stowed away at Entre Amigos, we headed out around 7:45 am with a bag full of burritos made for us by Maruca's sister.  Not too long after, we passed the first town where some locals were already half drunk and singing songs plucked out by an older cowboy on his guitar.  At the next juncture, we found out from a couple guys that we could take a shortcut over a swinging bridge to start the climb out of the canyon and then it would join our plotted course.

Emmanuel poses for me while crossing the bridge.

Gonzalo coming up from behind...

A few parts of the trail obviously suffer through the rainy season, we found the makeshift supports to be a little frightening.

Despite the heat, I found the hike out of the canyon to be easy walking and we arrived at the ranch Los Alisos de Torres around mid-day.  Tomás had told us to tell the rancher Don Prospero that he had sent us and that we would be welcomed and that they would give us fresh water.  What he didn't tell us was that it would be a refreshingly breezy oasis in the middle of desolate and dry climb out from Urique.  We were greeted by palms, mango trees, grapefruit trees, grapevines, and some of the nicest people we have met so far.  We ended up staying for about four hours we loved it there so much... Don Prospero stayed and chatted with us, served us coffee grown and roasted on his ranch, offered us bananas from his banana trees, and even pulled out a bed for me to take a siesta.

We also discovered that Los Alisos serves as a water point for the Caballo Blanco ultramarathon and our hike was part of the marathon route.  One of the primary legs of the ultramarathon is to run from Urique to Los Alisos and back and it was neat to have hiked that part.  I would later find out that our route back would also take us on another leg of the ultramarathon, but that's a story for a later post.

Gonzalo and Emmanuel enjoy the shade of the grapevines.

The three of us decided to shell beans for Don Prospero and chat about life, the universe, and everything.

These were some of the best bananas I've ever eaten, served up in a handwoven Raramuri basket.

While the boys napped, I played with a local Raramuri boy who was taking shelter from the heat with his mother.  They live about a two hour walk from Los Alisos.  He was fascinated by my animal imitations.

We finally tore ourselves away from Los Alisos once the heat of the day had passed and continued on fortified by fresh spring water and a lovely rest.  We profusely thanked Don Prospero and gave him a small tip as a sign of our gratitude.  He seemed embarrassed that he had little else to offer us and tried to send us off with tortillas and beans, but we had plenty of food already.  Instead, we accepted a few bananas to take with us on our journey.  From here, the views were stunning as we hike to the summit.

Emmanuel taking in the view.

The trail becomes a bit more rugged, but nothing too hard to navigate.

We got to an area a bit before La Yesca where the trail connects with a dirt road and set up camp.

We got a late start the next morning because we were relishing the cool night air.  While eating breakfast, the boys said they needed to get water at La Estación, a nearby ranch just past where we were camping that Tomás had identified as a place to get water.  Gonzalo thought I had overdone it when I said I had nearly three liters left.  Pshoo, I said, better safe than sorry so I took a lot of water at Los Alisos in case there was no water at La Estación.  Turns out, no one was home at La Estación so we had to hope to come across some other ranches.  Our maps showed that there was some sign of life at Piedra Redonda so I started conserving my water and hoped that we would have some luck there.

Nobody home at La Estación.

The long beautiful waterless road to Piedra Redonda... we missed a turn off for a trail and ended up staying on the road, but  we knew both would take us to Piedra Redonda.

Guillermina and her daughter Guadalupe live in Piedra Redonda and welcomed us with cool refreshing spring water and some shade.  She even offered us beer, but we knew it would be a bad idea.  We stayed a bit to rest and chat and learn a bit about their life there.  We are not the first ones to come across their home, turns out a while back, a pair of bike tourists also stopped by her house.

A local animal that is supposed to be delicious... oh wait, that's Emmanuel.

A view of Piedra Redonda... Guillermina tells us that there are five families that live there.

We learned from Guillermina that if we talked to another family that lived in Piedra Redonda, they could show us a shortcut across their property to start a more direct descent into Batopilas.  So we headed over to the other ranch and were greeted by a large family who showed us a steep climb up through some pine trees to the trail.  Each of the family members wished us well and off we went.

Lunch among the pines before heading down.

Emmanuel is part of an adventure club and takes the opportunity to show off a bit.

Taking in the view of the Batopilas canyon (photo credit: Gonzalo).

Rocky technical descent.

I don't remember where this was, but we found a huge water reservoir being filled from a spring.  We took the opportunities to cool off a bit.  Shortly after this, we came across a party of some friendly Raramuri ranchers.  We asked them what the party was for, they said it was the yumare, to ask for rain  They invited us up, but we declined because they were all pretty drunk (which is traditionally a part of the yumare) and moved on.

Back to the road to Batopilas.  By this time, we just stuck to the road although we did see some parallel footpaths.

Gonzalo and Emmanuel found themselves running low on water again and were once again saved by a friendly local family just outside the small town Cerro Colorado.  There we learned that the drug trade had actually dropped dramatically and was no longer a viable option for many people, and that the gold mining industry was all that was left.  We inspected some bits of rocks with gold speckled through them, and then sadly learned that they process the rock with mercury to remove the gold and wash the byproduct into the river.

After asking about the possibly camping along the river Batopilas near this family's property, we decided to head into Cerro Colorado to pick up some supplies to supplement dinner and camp somewhere on the other side of town.  Emmanuel saw a garden with swiss chard and the woman gave him a huge bagful for free.  Gonzalo and I went to the store and like many isolated communities, there was nothing but canned food... until we spotted a papaya sitting on the shelf.

The local school... posters were written in Spanish and the Raramuri language.

Time for dinner... mmmm fresh papaya.

Zona de hamacas.

Since we had lost time relaxing at Los Alisos (well worth it!) and sleeping in the day before, we still had a good half day of hiking to get into Batopilas.  The heat was oppressive and we were all exhausted and ready to be done.  Gonzalo was struggling immensely with the heat and Emmanuel and I both were suffering from our shoes.

Typical water jar which are made by the Raramuri and are designed to keep the water cool.  The folks at here had wonderfully cool spring water that we all took advantage of about an hour or two before Batopilas. 

Success!

We wandered along the long stretch of town to the plaza and found a cheap hotel, showered, grabbed some cold beers, collapsed for a bit, and then asked around town about getting public transport or hitching a ride back to Urique.

A few travel notes for cyclists:

• It is important to note that this hike requires a base level of hiking endurance to cross from one canyon to another.  The trails are steep going both up and down and the additional weight of any camping gear (we did well with just our hammocks and sleeping bags and left our tents behind).  We hiked around 60 kilometers, though I think it's a bit less if you actually stick to the foot trails.  Because we on a dirt road for much of the descent, we hiked quite a bit more distance.

• Tomás told us that it is possible to camp at Don Prospero's ranch Los Alisos and it's certainly a wonderful place to spend a significant amount of time.

• We had brought a water filter and iodine drops to treat any water we found (which would later become essential), but at this time of year, all the streams and waterfalls are dry, so you have to depend on spring water.  Although I could get away with about 4 liters per day, Gonzalo was drinking up to 12 liters in a day in the heat.  We were highly dependent on the kindness of strangers because the spring sources are not readily apparent.  I saw this as a silver lining because had there been abundant water in the streams, we wouldn't have had a reason to get to know these amazing people.