Copper Canyon Diary (2 of 6)

Thursday May 14th, 1998

Up at 0630!! We had already showered and dressed by the time our wake-up knock came, but still gratefully accepted the coffee and hot chocolate. Breakfast consisted of cereals, yogurt, fresh fruit, plus pancakes or eggs to order. The huevos rancheros and huevos Mexicanos were both good, but too hot and spicy for me; made a mental note to ask for menos picante.

We were on our way at 0915, led by a 16 year old Tarahumaran runner. Ray cautioned us numerous times to refrain from any attempt to keep pace with him, but to hold a very slow, steady pace and he would wait for us. Ray has been nursing a cold and sinus thing, so will not be accompanying us, but like a conscientious mother with furrowed brow, he inventoried us for adequate water supply, proper shoes and sun protection, and sent us on our way.

The hike we had chosen was of course, the most difficult day hike offered and extended 14 miles of very rough trail in very warm weather. As in most mountain climates, the early morning began chilly, but we were soon shedding our light jackets in deference to the temperature in the 80-90 F range.

The first 2-3 miles of the hike climbed 2000feet in elevation, and really had we flatlanders huffing! Upon questioning, our guide admitted that he usually runs up this trail wearing the traditional huaraches!

We topped out onto a mesa-like surface which we traversed for about 3 miles, extremely grateful for the respite from the steep ascent. We were told that the area is heavily populated by Tarahumara, but we never saw them. There was however, ample indication of their presence: dozens of trails cross, recross and lead off into all directions. Without our guide, we would have been hopelessly lost; not for wont of a trail but from a surfeit of them.

The Tarahumarans that we saw at the head of the canyon around the Lodge and at the early part of our ascent lived in log huts and the men no longer wore the traditional dress of full, brightly colored shirts and white loincloth. The women however, still dress traditionally in very vibrant colors and long, full skirts. The men plow their field with wooden plows shaped from a small tree or large limb which has a limb extending in a place convenient for a handle to hold and guide the plow as a horse or mule pulls it. The Sierra Lodge ejido communally owns one very skinny, tired horse which everyone uses. At this time of the year they are planting their fields in anticipation of the rains to come in June.

The government tries very hard to provide health and education services to the Indians, but the Tarahumaras usually prefer to decline same. The Indians do not cooperate with the government’s attempts at vaccination and accurate records, which certainly compounds the difficulties.

Ray tells of a truck and team of health care providers which cruises the area vaccinating whatever kids they can catch whether they have been vaccinated before or not! He said that they pull onto a village, truck doors fly open, and they race out grabbing children, feverishly issuing vaccinations to all they can catch. I suspect that the slowest kids are very well protected from disease!

Education is offered, but rarely do the Indian children get more than a year or two because they are truly needed to work to sustain the family.

The tiniest girls are expected to do their share, and can be spotted lugging water and other such chores.

Many of the Indians also still continue a semi-nomadic way of life, living alternately in caves and log homes as their forebears did before them.

At the edge of the Mesa, we emerged to look down 2000 feet below us at the Cusarare Creek as it rippled through the canyon on its way to join the much larger Copper Canyon 25 miles downstream. We admired the view for a bit, and observed the rural school for Indian children across the canyon, then made a slow, laborious descent in shale and switchbacks to the bottom of the canyon.

A short distance up stream we encountered the Recohuata hot springs where we soaked our weary feet and ate the lunch packed for us at the Lodge and carried by our guide. Unknown to us, this small 16 year old had also packed extra water and a coke for each one of us in his backpack, and still walked us into the ground! Very solemn and shy, he went about his duties quietly and efficiently. Only after many hours with us did he initiate any kind of communication and then only to point out something of interest. Only twice did he break his flat affect when Mike was able to elicit a smile with one of his remarks in remarkably poor Spanish!

We returned by following the stream up the canyon bed to the Cusarare Falls, a stunning cascade of water approximately 200′ in vertical fall. This must be an awesome sight when the rains swell the stream to torrents.

We arrived at the Lodge at 1600, very trail weary and Cheryl sporting a new bruise on one hip from a rather nasty fall. She is not in as good “shape” physically as the rest of us, having a desk job and coming from the cold of Minnesota winters, but she trudges along bringing up drag and never complaining. Jan, on the other hand, is tough as a boot. Her size belies her stamina. She sets a steady pace and just keeps on putting one foot in front of another.

Shower felt wonderful! As the heat of the day dropped to the mountain chill, we gathered for margaritas and popcorn, followed by dinner. The stuffed chicken breast had Mike swooning, especially when the tomatillo sauce turned up.

Another cozy night.

Read all six parts of Copper Canyon Diary
Part One
Part Two
Part Three
Part Four
Part Five
Part Six

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