Dear Cha-Wel-Dor-Sue:

Ever since I stood on the rim of the north slope of the Grand Canyon many years ago, I was made aware of the reality of "Geological Time". There, written clearly for me to see, were the erosive effects of weathering, or that of rain and wind, as the Colorado River coursed south from its headwaters in Colorado to its destination in the Gulf of California. The stratifications indicative of each period of time were clearly discernible and one could see how the earth's crust at that site had been built up layer by layer over eons of time. The spectacle was unforgettable and one can understand why I found a visit to the Copper Canyon irresistible once I had learned that it was larger and deeper than our own Grand Canyon.

Our trip was designed to start in Tucson, Arizona, and to travel by bus southwesterly to San Carlos, a resort area at Guaymas on the Sea of Cortez. The distance was over 300 miles and there was little to see except semi-arid land. On the following day, we were scheduled to drive to LaFuerte, an old colonial town on the Chihuahua al Pacifico Railroad running from Los Mochis to Chihuahua. After a brief tour of LaFuerte, we were scheduled to board the train for Bahuichivo and a bus trip to the town of Cerocahui where we were to get our first glimpse of the Copper Canyon complex and a magnificent view of the Urique Canyon. Alas, our best-laid plans occasionally do go astray and at this point, "Murphy's Law" entered into our itinerary, and subsequently revealed itself at every opportunity. From this point on, nothing went as scheduled!

On the morning we were to leave for LaFuerte, there was a delay in getting started. Instead of departing at 7 A.M. as scheduled, we were still sitting in the hotel lobby as late as 10:30 in the morning. It had been apparent for some time that our fine young tour leader, Greg Grant, had been on the lobby phone for an hour or more and something obviously had happened to delay our trip. When Greg finally appeared, he had "good news and bad news" and delivered the unwelcome news first. Unbeknownst to him, the train we were scheduled to travel on was unable to make the eastward trip because a bridge at Temoris had been knocked out four days ago when the rear car of a freight train loaded with corn jumped the track and fell to the valley below, damaging the bridge structure. There was no loss of life but it did render train travel impossible until repairs could be made to the bridge structure. We were shocked to learn that the travel agency (Collette Travel Agency), or its representatives in Mexico, had not informed us of this fact before we left Tucson. Had we known of this, I am not sure what Pat and I would have elected to do with our holiday time. By missing the train trip from LaFuerte, we would miss the most scenic portion of our rail trip because it is in this section of the rail line that it travels from sea level to an altitude of over 8000 feet and it is in this section of the line that the train travels through 60 or more tunnels and over some 20+ unusual bridges. Furthermore, since we could not get beyond Temoris, we would thereby be unable to get to the Copper Canyon itself, and this had been the primary reason for our trip in the first place. Naturally, with all of this bad news in mind, we were most eager to hear the "good news". What could possibly salvage our trip at this time?

The good news was that if we could get to Chihuahua by bus (they did not offer us a flight to Chihuahua), we could accomplish all of our objectives, but only in reverse. We were told we would not miss anything except the western scenic portion of the rail journey. However, to do this, a bus ride of approximately 500 miles, largely at night and over a mountainous road, would be required. Greg, our tour leader, at this point said he had to make a decision and decided that most of us would probably vote to chance it and so he arranged for the longest bus trip I have ever made under such adverse conditions. We were to travel from sea level to an elevation of over 8000 feet through the Sierra Madre Occidental Mountains to the city of Chihuahua which itself is at an altitude of 4500 feet. We left the hotel at 10:30 in the morning and at 2 P.M., were at the town of Hermosillas. Here, we stopped at a supermarket to pick up some tidbits for lunch and to inquire about the road to Chihuahua. We were told by several people in this town that it was simply impossible to make the trip in time to catch the 7 o'clock train departing from Chihuahua the next morning. Greg and Peter, our bus driver, conferred and elected to make the effort, knowing we would get very little sleep that night. The first 10 miles was on the wrong road and here, Murphy's Law again came into play. After backtracking to the city, we started out anew on the right road. From here on, for over 400 miles, there was nary a gas station, no stores, and nothing but isolation. En route, we passed at most only a dozen trucks and two police cars who were checking all on the road that night. At 1 A.M., we saw lights in the distance (town of LaJunta) and one hour later, we saw a larger town, Cuatehtemoa, where we stopped after finding a small fast food joint that was about ready to close. Here, we had a soft drink and some beef and pork tortillas. The pork was on a spit in front of a vertical electric grill and was shaved off as it rotated. While it was not particularly appetizing, it was at least something to eat. When we were ready to depart, the driver noted that his right rear outside tire was flat and a local police officer was found who arranged to get a repair crew and replace the tire with a spare that was carried in the bus. Since it was an outside tire, they simply drove up over a block using the inside wheel to elevate the bus. By so doing, enough lift was provided to enable the outside tire to be changed. It was a relatively simple process but occurring at 2 o'clock in the morning, it delayed our trip even more than it might have otherwise. It was Murphy's Law again coming into play. It was then two hours further to Chihuahua. Finally, at 4:30 in the morning, we arrived and our first information told that breakfast would be served at 5:30 and we were to leave for the train at 6:15, which left us virtually no time at all to find any rest or even to change our clothes.

The scene at the train station was interesting as most of the travelers were Tarahumarra Indians returning to their villages. Vendors were selling all kinds of tortillas and tostados and various drinks and it was noisy and frenetic. Finally, we were under way but the train traveled amazingly slow. A trip that was scheduled to take approximately seven hours took nine hours and we arrived at Bahuichivo at approximately 4 o'clock in the afternoon. En route, some of us had a box lunch prepared for us at the hotel in Chihuahua. Others elected to have the steward on the train make up a sandwich for them.

After we disembarked from the train, we got on an "Old Vermont School Bus" and then traveled some 10 miles over one of the most bumpy roads anywhere to the town of Cerocahui and our Hotel Mission. This was formerly the hacienda of an old Grandee and was surrounded by a quadrangle of motel-like rooms, all equipped with indoor plumbing and most modern conveniences. Electricity was generated in the back yard using a diesel generator and was available from 6 P.M. to 10 P.M., after which kerosene lamps provided the illumination. Though it was a long trip, we were welcomed with a weak Margarita and a really fine dinner of typical Mexican foods, namely beans, guacamole, meat, and cooked vegetables. After dinner, our local tour guide, Alfredo, entertained us with some singing and guitar playing. We finally retired a bit weary but pleased to be finally at the Canyon and looking forward to the following day and our first view of this geological phenomena in northwest Mexico. Earlier in the day, we did stop for a few minutes at Divisidero, where we did get a brief glimpse of the Canyon and we did get the opportunity to see the local Indians displaying and selling their arts and crafts, which consisted mostly of baskets of all kinds, necklaces of beads, and wooden instruments, largely flutes and strangely enough, hand-made violins.

Upon arising in the morning, the group was taken by bus to the rim of the Urique Canyon. This was again a terrible trip and Pat elected to spare her back the trauma of an up and down bouncing drive in the old school bus. She remained at the hotel and amused herself by walking about the town, in which there truly was not much to see. There was the local church, or former mission, and also a mission school next door where some 60 Tarahumarra Indians, (largely girls), lived in residence. Teaching was done by a small group of nuns.

My camera began to misbehave at this point and eventually, I learned that the small lithium battery was weak and the camera was no longer able to function. I had bought this camera some three years ago and was told that the lithium battery might last a year or two, so in some respects, I had been lucky to this point. At any event, I had not carried a spare lithium battery with me and so, there was very little that I could bring home in the way of a video of my trip.

After our morning trip and lunch, we had a decision to make. No one knew if the bridge which had been damaged had been repaired to this point. There was absolutely no communication in this area and nowhere in the world have I been where there is so totally a sense of isolation as we experienced at that time. In fact, I couldn't believe that in this modern world of technology and telecommunications, there was a site anywhere where you couldn't at least find out whether the train was running and if so, when it might be expected to arrive in this community. To all inquiries came the reply "We simply do not know." The subsequent course of our travel depended on whether the bridge was repaired, whether the train would continue its westerly direction, or whether it would get to the point of the damaged bridge and return and the net result was that we simply didn't know which way to turn and our tour guide was in the same dilemma. Our choice of decisions was to leave and take the train at 3 P.M. and hope the bridge was still out, as the train would then go forward, then reverse, and we could take it as it returned and be on our way to Posada Barranca. On the other hand, if the bridge had been repaired, the 3 o'clock train would go through to the West Coast, and that was not our destination. We elected to assume that the bridge had been repaired and to take the other train at Bahuichivo at 7 P.M. and so, we arrived after the usual one and one half hour ten mile rocky-road trip at the Railroad Station as the sun was setting. At this point again, Mr. Murphy reappeared and we sat in the darkened school bus for five and one-half hours as the slow train from the East Coast finally arrived at our station. What does one do for five and one-half hours in a darkened bus with the rain falling and flashes of lightning occurring spasmodically? We sang songs, we told jokes, etc., but they were not adequate to fulfill the time. At one point, I got up and offered the contents of a bag of Doritos to all of the people at the Railroad Station. One heart-throbbing event occurred as I offered a handful of Doritos to a very young child possibly 18 months old and he immediately offered me his bag, contents unknown. Everyone seeing this happen couldn't help responding to the child's generous gesture and his desire to share his possessions with me. Finally at 12:30, the slow-moving train arrived and we took off for the Posada Barranca Hotel on the very rim of Copper Canyon. Although we arrived at 2 A.M., our last night's dinner was ready and we were finally in bed at 4 o'clock, only to be called to breakfast at 8 A.M., only a few hours later!

The next morning was leisurely and was given over to some dancing by the Tarahumarra Indians. These people are noted for their long distance running and running 100 miles a day is not unusual, or at least was not unusual in their past. To make their running interesting, they would play a game of kicking the ball as they ran. The ball itself was of light wood and approximately the size of a baseball, and they would kick it or strike it with a stick and in so doing, it was more than simply a run. It turned out to be a game. The girls do something of the same sort to encourage their long distance training but they use a stick and instead of kicking a ball, they pick up and toss a pair of joined rings. If you can toss it straight ahead a long distance, you can spend more of your time running than retrieving the objects. It was a fascinating game and perhaps I can introduce it at home to my grandchildren and they can play it on our lawn.

After lunch, Mr. Murphy again visited me and this was largely a matter of poor judgment on my part. A two hour horseback trip to a scenic site on the rim of the Copper Canyon was offered and I decided to chance it. I selected, with Pat's approval, a burro, whose calm and tranquil fancies appealed to me. His girth, or beam, was a bit too broad but I finally did, with considerable help, manage to get astride. I had thought that we were going to travel on a relatively smooth road but I was soon disillusioned. The roadway ahead lasted only for about 200 feet and thereafter, there was no road at all but only boulders, large and small, and inclines and declines up to 30 and 40 degrees. It was up and down and I was shifted left and right and with every step. I thought my back would break and my hips would be either broken or dislocated. After 15 minutes, I cried "Alto", or stop, but no one understood and the group proceeded ahead and I was left at the tail end of things, suffering all the while. Finally, I was so far back in line that no one could hear my cries of pain nor see the tears streaming down my face. There was no decision to make and my burro insisted he keep in line. After an hour of anguish, we arrived at the rim of the Canyon and I was so disabled, I could not dismount. I could only insist that we take the shortest way back, which was the very same way we had come. Finally, we arrived back at the Inn and by that time, I was injured to pain. My camera had lost its lens cap and its eye piece. Apparently, it had banged around so much that they had become loosened and had fallen off. My job was primarily to stay on the beast and I did so by holding the pommel with one hand and the saddle with the other hand. It took three people to help me get off the animal. I feared a prolonged state of disability but I was surprised at how quickly I recovered. On our horseback trip, we had both a nurse and a physiotherapist and they were constantly offering me their services. I believe this will be the last time I will ever get astride a beast of burden.

We spent two nights at the Posada and the view and accommodations were superb. Last year, tourists were housed at The Ranch, which is a half-mile from the rim. Today, however, The Ranch is used only for overflow and the hotel facilities on the rim itself are absolutely first class.

The last portion of our trip was a long bus ride to Creel and a visit to a Mission Church, a School, and a Cave which was typical of where the majority of the Tarahumarra Indians lived. The government would like them to live in Public Housing but they prefer the caves. These Indians are interesting because they resist Westernization, or Mexicanization, and can do so because of their remoteness and inaccessibility. They do have a high rate of infant mortality and may soon have to accept Western standards of health care and education. They are perhaps one of the last ethnic groups in our hemisphere whose culture has not been significantly affected by modern civilization.

On our next to the last day of our expedition, we drove to Creel, and this little town is the social and political center of the Tarahumarra Tribe. The rest of the day was spent in returning to Chihuahua, which is the capital of the State of Chihuahua. It has a population of 1.2 million and the State of Chihuahua is the largest State in Mexico.

Our final day in Mexico consisted of a tour of the city of Chihuahua and we stopped at the State Capitol to see its historical murals, to see the Basilica or large church, and finally, the home of Pancho Villa. In the American eye, he was a "Bandit" but to many Mexicans, he is a local hero. He is someone who challenged the "Gringos" of the North and is generally regarded by the Mexicans as one of their local patriots.

Mention should be made of the stop in the town of Chuarthtemoc, which we saw from the train en route to the Canyon and which we passed through en route back by bus to Chihuahua. Today, between 60 and 70 thousand Mennonites live here and are engaged in very successful farming operations. They have many fruit orchards, especially apples, and vast vegetable fields. They raise considerable grain and have complete dairy operations. They were invited by the Mexican government to come down from Canada in the year of 1922 with the promise of cheap land, security to live in their traditional communal style of living and freedom from service in the Mexican Military. At first, they drove their carriages while today, they have modernized their transportation and use automobiles and tractors. They build their own schools, hospitals, libraries, and churches and marry only among their own group. Mexicans are hired for manual labor but little socialization is permitted.

In order to more fully appreciate the urge that I had to see the Copper Canyon, I should relate the following facts:

The Copper Canyon, while a distinct Canyon in itself, is used to describe a complex of five canyons:
Urique - 6,136 feet
Sinforasa - 6,002 feet
Batopilas - 5,904 feet
Copper Canyon - 5,770 feet
Guaynopa - 5,313 feet

These all resulted from the confluence of three rivers:
Rio Verde, Urique, and the Serrysa, all of which flow into the Rio Fuerte.

Compare these Canyon statistics with that of the Grand Canyon at Hopi Point, 4,674 feet! The geology of the Copper Canyon is primarily hard ignaceous strata and the walls, unlike the Grand Canyon, are densely covered with vegetation, obscuring any stratification that may be present. A few organ pipe rock formations are seen here and there, which add some interest to the Canyon slopes. Overall, despite the immensity of the size of the Canyons, they are in no way comparable to our spectacular Grand Canyon. Our Canyon, with its irregular rock formations and mesas and brilliant colors that vary as the rays of the sun strike them from sunrise to sunset, is simply incomparable.

The second objective of our trip was to see first-hand one of the railroad marvels of the world, the Chihuahua al Pacifico Railroad, running from Los Mochis and the Port of Tolopobampo on the Sea of Cortez, sea level, to the City of Chihuahua on the plateau at 4,500 feet. Between these two points, the railroad ascends through 39 bridges and tunnels to an elevation of over 8,000 feet and at a grade of never more than 6%. At one point, the track crosses over itself and actually reverses direction within a tunnel and completes a circle inside a mountain! During its passage, it crosses the Sierra Madre Mountains, a southern extension of our Rocky Mountain Chain. A graphic representation of the train's travel is shown below.

The Railroad was begun in 1871 and was to provide access to the Gulf of California from Chihuahua. It was the intention of the builders of the railroad to join with an already established railroad that ran from El Paso, Texas, to Kansas City, Kansas. It was the abundance of ore in this mountainous area, particularly silver, and the vast lumber industry there that would make it an economically sound venture. The local Tarahumarra Indians would be employed or enslaved to build the project cheaply. For a multitude of reasons, however, including money or lack of it, politics, World War I, and World War II, the project was not completed until the year 1961, or only after 90 years of effort. It is approximately 415 miles overall and is frequently referred to as the Choo Choo to Chihuahua. It is considered one of the Railroad engineering marvels of its time.

Overall, we were disappointed in our trip, not only because the Canyon was less spectacular than we had assumed, but primarily because we missed the most scenic and structurally exciting portion of the Railroad. We returned home unappreciative of most of the astounding engineering facts and features that had been performed in the construction of this unusual rail bed. However, we did achieve a record or two of our own, and that was to spend some 17 hours in a bus and to lose a complete night's sleep and then secondly, to spend another five and a half hours in a darkened bus awaiting the arrival of an agonizingly slow train. These were no small achievements.

With Love,

DAD

CEJ/nb