Author: Balaji Agoram

Millennium in the Copper Canyon (1 of 3)



Part One: The long winding road down
Copper Canyon
The guidebooks call the Copper Canyon the world’s largest secret and it is not an exaggeration. The canyon is as large and remote as it is unknown to most of the world. More than the size, the sheer remoteness struck a deep sense of longing in me and what better time to be lost in its bowels than the advent of a new millennium.

Therefore, I decided that my New year’s eve would be spent in the Barrancas del Cobre (Copper Canyon) country of northern Mexico. I somehow convinced my friends Karl and Rick, both experienced backpackers who were as at home in the woods as they were inexcusable in their Spanish skills, to join me in my adventure.

Our attempts to learn Spanish by watching Univision while drinking beer at home in Colorado had predictable results. Eventually, armed with a guidebook, backpacking gear, and enough Spanish skills between the three of us to find the nearest bathroom, we set out for Mexico.

For those of you that live in the Western part of the US and want to get to Mexico the fun way, there are very cheap and unadvertised bus-lines that operate to the Mexican border. I had taken one of these buses before and loved it not only because they were cheap, but also because they were really fast and comfortable ($75 between Denver and El Paso and 12 hours travel compared to $120 and 18 hours on Greyhound!). These are AC buses with videos playing cheesy Mexican movies that will split you up. (In Denver, try Golden State bus lines on 22nd and Champa, but don’t go around looking for it at night).

For the second successive year, I found myself in a Golden State bus bound for El Paso, Texas around Christmas and for the second successive year, my friend lost his camera on the bus. After spending the night trying to figure out the plot in a couple of movies and sleeping fitfully, we arrived in El Paso bright and early. When in El Paso, forgive yourself if you look for horses tied up to lampposts, for if you did find any, you wouldn’t be surprised.

We walked across the bridge that connects Mexico to the US (the pass?) and were officially tourists in Ciudad Juarez. Juarez is a dirty, border outpost whose main industry is entertainment of the most abusable sort and, of course, dentistry. We walked over to a local bus-stop and took a bus to the interstate bus station. Unfortunately, there were no direct buses to Creel, which was our destination. So we took a bus to Chihuahua city from Juarez and then another bus from Chihuahua to Creel. Once outside Juarez, note the miles of metal junkyard where stolen and abandoned vehicles are forgotten. Twelve hours and two more rocking movies after we left Juarez, we were finally in Creel.

Creel is the largest town in the Barrancas del Cobre; a mission post and the modest gateway to the canyon. It is a compact town crawling with tourists, backpackers, wealthy Mexicans, bikers, climbers and hikers from all parts of the world. The most bohemian of them stay at the Casa Margarita’s. If you go to Creel, stay there. Don’t fear not being able to find it for it will find you, rather the few grubby kids who form the potent marketing force of Casa Margarita’s will find you as you get off the bus.

Casa Margarita’s is a cheap, clean, cozy place with a killer breakfast and dinner. The previous year, I had stayed 6 people to a room; this year, the millennium had probably scared the crowds, so it was us and a few brave stragglers. The corn tortillas, bean soup, eggs, and cabbage served steaming hot in the noisy dining room just about won the argument against the soreness of a 24 hour bus ride in our bodies.

Lake Arareco
The next day, we walked around the town and the surrounding valleys. We saw various rock formations, had a picnic lunch at Lake Arareco, got adopted by a stray dog (and got ditched soon after), and basically relaxed around town conserving strength for our backpacking adventure. In the evening, I saw the first of the many strange sights of my trip.

Creel is a town of about 5,000 people, maybe 500 of them own cars (I am guessing here). There is one main street in Creel that ends at the square by the train station and the mission Church. On this night, all the cars were out in force on the “strip”. They were driven stoically from one end of the strip all the way up and around the square and back to the end of the strip. A few rebels dared to go around the square twice in a single lap and were (probably) frowned upon in their cruising circles for they never did it again. There was even a low-rider, resplendent with flashing neon lights all around which was our favorite. There was quiet music in the background. We sat in the square and watched utterly fascinated by this silent procession. My friends tell me that this “cruising” is a way of life in small towns across America, but that was my first experience of this strange pre-occupation and it made a lasting impression on my mind, not unlike the first time I had ice-cream.

Suddenly, as if a flag had been waved, the cruising stopped. The cars stopped circling, it got bitter cold and we had a long hike ahead of us the next day. We planned to buy a map of the Copper Canyon and pick a trail with a view of the river Urique. We planned to spend New year’s eve in the middle of nowhere and it is fairly easy to find it in the Copper Canyon.

Read all three parts of Millennium in the Copper Canyon
Part One
Part Two
Part Three