Horseback Through the Sierra Madres – Puerto Vallarta to Talpa de Allende to El Tuito, Mexico

By: John Russell

John Russell – El Caballero

I just completed a three-day ride from a high mountain valley in the Sierra Madre to a small town south of Puerto Vallarta, by horseback.

I had spent the previous six months sitting in front of my computer when my friend, Teresa McHugh (from the Emerald Isle), who has been riding since she was 6 years old, asked me if I would like to accompany her in order to move her horse from Talpa de Allende to Chimo on the bay. Talpa is a valley at 4,300 ft. (1,310 meters) but between it and the coast there are at least a couple of 6,000-ft. (1,829 m) ridges.

The road we would be traveling follows a very old road laid out by the Spanish, mainly to supply the mines in the area and to ship out the gold and silver.

Although there is no mine at Talpa, the valley it lies in has abundant grazing for cattle and horses. This is serious horse country. Everyone has horses and are forever boasting about them.

We took the bus to Talpa, from Puerto Vallarta, at 8 AM, a journey of 7 hours total, including a stop for breakfast at a very nice, clean restaurant in Estancia at the turn-off to San Sebastian. Continuing through Mascota, an agricultural town in a very lush valley, we arrived in Talpa de Allende at 2 PM.

Talpa has a religious significance, with several pilgrimages coming here every year. In 1644 a small statue of a virgin was found buried under a small chapel, named The Virgin Rosalio of Talpa. The statue was sent to another town for repair and miraculously was found back in Talpa the next morning, which then would have been impossible to have covered the distance in that amount of time. Subsequently several people were “cured” of ailments by touching it. Before long a church was built and a town emerged.

I have heard that the Spanish would sometimes resort to trickery to establish towns – and thereby the value of the surrounding land – by arranging a “miracle”.

People would come from everywhere to the site, who would need accommodation, food and supplies, result – “instant town”. Many times these areas where already sacred to the former pagan beliefs.

We were met at the bus stop by Guy, from the Hacienda Jacarandas, where we were to stay that night. Before leaving for the Hacienda we wandered around town visiting with the many friends that Teresa had there. Stopping at a drapery store whose owner was a friend of hers, the conversation immediately went to horses. After showing her the custom “‘bits” he had made, they took off to his ranch to see and ride his horses. I retired to a bar overlooking the incredibly clean Plaza in front of the church, until they rode back into the Plaza on a couple of beautiful Arabian horses. After several libations we left for the short drive to the Hacienda.

This has got to be one of the most photogenic places I’ve ever been. Surrounded by manicured lawns, the Hacienda Jacarandas is a wonderful Mexican-style hacienda with eight double rooms in the main building. It has a 55-foot (17 m) lap pool and a hot tub, and behind the hacienda there is a small lake with large-mouth bass and perch for the fisherman. The view across the valley to the town, with the Sierras behind, is absolutely captivating.

The next morning we wandered down from the Hacienda, in a morning mist, to a ranch to see if they had a suitable horse for me. The rancher was sitting in the milking yard; Teresa knew him from previous trips. Before talking about why we were there, it was necessary to partake of a morning libation called Bajartea. Into a plastic tumbler a couple of spoons of ChocoMilk are put, followed by a healthy slug of cane alcohol and then given to a milkmaid who goes to the nearest cow and fills it up from the “spigot”, so to speak.

Brewing the good stuff

It’s surprisingly hot, and after just one I was really awake! We eventually drove to another ranch where Teresa’s horse, and another for me, were saddled up and we were on our way. The road – I should explain here that it consisted of strewn rocks and was wide enough for maybe one vehicle although we never saw one – led upwards in a serpentine route to a ridge about 6,000 feet high. Before gaining this crest we saw, not far off the trail, three guys working at what I immediately recognized as a still.

This demanded a stop. We were offered a drink of wonderful fresh Raicilla, which I found sweeter and smoother than many others I’ve had. Suitably fortified with an emergency supply in my saddlebag, we pressed on.

I can’t begin to describe the scenery. As we climbed higher and higher the views of the valleys and the mountains beyond were staggering.

The smell of the pines, the clouds of butterflies and flowers were everywhere, but I was starting to get a few aches and pains around the area where I met the saddle. Not surprising, since the last time I did anything like this was a year ago. Nevertheless, I partook of some of the liquid pain relief from the saddlebag and soon was feeling a lot better.

After the descent down and crossing a few paltry (after what we had just crossed) ridges, the dome of the church in Cuale could be seen poking out of the valley. How the horses knew this, I don’t know, but they picked up their pace considerably. My horse was always following Teresa and did not want to keep up. Even after changing to her horse, I still fell behind. Guess the horse knew he had an idiot on board and took it easy.

It’s a good thing that they did pick up the pace, as the light was going and we entered town when it was dark, to quite a few stares of amazement.

There are no hotels in Cuale. There are three telephones, and the bus from Vallarta only runs twice a week. Needless to say we were the only “gringos” in town. One of the mines here was a top producer of gold in the days of the Spanish. The ruins of one of these can be seen a short distance from town. The only surviving mine is some distance away and is nearly played out. They have built a big sawmill now to provide employment, but many of the young people go off to Puerto Vallarta for work. We stayed with Lydia, another of the growing list of Teresa’s friends. Lydia has an Abarotes Tienda, behind which is her home with several unoccupied rooms. We were treated as members of the family and filled with Lydia’s cooking. I fell asleep the moment my head hit the pillow.

Bright and early the next morning, well at least early, we saddled up, said goodbye to Lydia, her family and lots of kids before starting the climb (another one!) across another ridge to the last operating mine. It’s not a short distance, and the people of Cuale would walk this twice a day! It’s also not a very pretty sight, when you come down from the ridge and see this big bite out of the side of the mountain with its sediment pools and tailing dams.

Once past this eyesore the trail climbs again and we entered the clouds covering the next ridge. Although the sheer cliff of rocks to the right of the trail had little vegetation, the rocks themselves were of many different colors aided by the greens of moss and lichen. To the left of the trail was only the swirling mist of the clouds. I’m not sure if I feel better not knowing how far a sheer drop is, just a few horse steps away, or being able to see it.

I admit, I did a fair amount of walking to help re-solidify my jelly knees. The acrobatics of getting back in the saddle became more and more entertaining, especially the time the horse stepped on my foot.

Clouds and rock

It was getting to be late afternoon, and the idea was to stop by at a ranch for the night. Trouble was, there were no ranches to be seen. With about half an hour’s light left, we came to one, obviously abandoned (no dogs). Hoping this was a sign of “civilization” we pressed on, eventually coming to a ranch (with dogs) that Teresa said she had been to two years ago.

Of course, the one surviving inhabitant of Aguacate, as the group of deserted ranches was called, immediately remembered Teresa from her last visit. The people in the mountains are unlikely to have seen a WOMAN riding ALONE anywhere. Teresa says the women in the villages invariably ask “Aren’t you afraid riding without a man with you?” Teresa would say “What, afraid of other people?”

“Oh, no,” they’d say.

“Then, afraid of what?”

“Well”, they would say, “Tigres” (not really, mountain lions, maybe). What they really mean by “Tigres” are evil spirits and may come in many forms. A woman, without a man with her, would be easy picking for these beasts.

This old man had been living alone for years; the people from the other ranches had all moved to El Tuito, and even his wife left him. He seemed incredibly happy with his only companions, the dogs, pigs, chickens, goats and his mule. The main room has a clay oven/heater/light source in the middle, and we sat and investigated the Raicilla bottle for a while before turning outside, into our sleeping bags. The sky was a blaze of stars and easily illuminated the pigs that came shuffling around later. Teresa’s shout of “Piss Off!!” worked surprisingly well, and all was quiet until we discovered that one of the roosters was insane and thought dawn was at 4am.

After some delicious fresh tortillas the next morning, our hermit friend, with all the dogs and puppies, guided us through a narrow track for an hour, to another trail which led to El Tuito directly. In a few hours we came back to people, sound and traffic at the turn-off to central El Tuito.

I hope I made a dashing sight as we rode to the restaurants by the bus stop. I was leaving the expedition here because it’s difficult to get back from Chimo (and my butt hurt!). After several cold beers, I did my best impression of John Wayne as I sauntered over to catch the bus and a well-earned shower at home.

To learn more about Puerto Vallarta, check out John Russell’s The Insider’s Guide to Vallarta. Also use these links for pictures of Talpa de Allende, pictures of Cuale and pictures from the trail.