Well, we made to to Creel (entry point to the Copper Canyon). We rode in today about 1pm after a final crossing of the Continental Divide. (We crossed it yesterday too.)

It was a really tough ride yesterday, and I didn´t have it in me to make the final push to Creel, so we stayed in San Juanito, just 20 miles away. But we had climbed probably 3000 feet and over the Continental Divide at a really significant pass, so it was good to rest for the night.

This afternoon we did get out and do some really pleasant mountain biking in a region of the local people, the Tarahumara. We ended up on doubletrack and then singletrack and then in a pasture, then bushwhacking a bit, but we made it back to Creel. Loads of fun.

We´re working on a plan to explore this fabulous Copper Canyon country in the coming days.

In the US, illegal immigrans are sometimes called wetbacks. In Mexico they call them "mojados", which means the same thing. That's what we were in Mexico. We entered the country without papers so were here illegally. When we came through the border at El Berrendo (opposite Antelope Wells, NM) there were customs officials, but no immigration officials, so we had to come in without the papers.

Well, yesterday we tried to fix that before Ron left on the bus from Chihuahua to Denver. We didn't want him having troubles at the border! So we found out where the Immigration office was in Chihuahua was, called them, and went in to get things fixed up.

We explained to them what had happened at the border, and they asked why we didn't go to El Paso to get our papers. (We're on bikes, guys!) I think they could see that we didn't do anything wrong, but a long conversation ensued, without resolution. Then there was an extended phone call to a superior.

We were finally told to go to the office supplies store 5 blocks away and get nine sheets of Form SAT-5, along with copies of our passports. We did.

Then they typed up the forms SAT-5, in triplicate, which explained how we had violated the laws of the country. Eventually, they gave us the forms and sent us to the bank, 5 blocks away in the other direction. We had to go to the bank, pay our fine of $20 ($40 for me because I'm staying longer) and then come back. We did.

Then there was another phone call and we were asked to sit down for a bit.

Finally, about the exact minute we needed to rush off to get Ron on the bus, they gave us his form that explained to all officials that although he was a bad boy, he had paid for his crime, and should be allowed to leave the country. I hope it worked well for him.

Mexican Immigration is not the most efficient organization in the country :-)
First, there was a long conversation
they said we'd have to go to the office supplies shop 5 blocks away and get 9 sheets of form

If Mexican Immigration is one of the least efficient organizations in the country, the Mexican buses are one of the most efficient. Riding to and from Chihuahua to get Ron sent north reminded me of the beauties of Mexican buses.

These days all the main line buses are tremendously modern and comfortable, with big, tall, padded seats and a courteous, skilled driver. They still do usually stop for people who wave them down on the road, and they let people off where they need to be let off along the way. It's a nice thing.

At most stops, a vendor or two will come on the bus and offer burritos or tamales or sodas. Sometimes they just get on and then off; sometimes they ride the bus to the next stop, then ride a bus going the opposite direction to get back.

Yesterday we had a wonderful guitarrist and singer get on and serenade us for several minutes - quite a pleasure. I got to talk with him a bit, and like most of the other men in Chihuahua, he had worked in Colorado for some time, but was happy to be at home.

And all of the four or five people who sat next to me were pleasant, sharing their stories. In the US, bus travel is used only by a few, who generally have no other options. In Mexico, it's used by everyone, so you get a more comfortable mix of people. The buses are marvellous.

I decided to ride to Batopilas, which is another canyon-bottom town like Urique, but a little larger and with a longer history (clear back to Spanish times). I set out on Sunday morning after buying groceries and making calls and such, and rode to the Cusarare waterfall a few miles out of town, then continued on.

The first 45 miles or so of the road are paved with nice, new pavement. And there was hardly any traffic. And it was incredibly beautiful. Unlike our first several miles riding toward Urique, where we couldn't see into the canyons until the end, I could see huge expanses of canyon at every crest. But WOW, was it hard riding. I was ready for the up-and-down, but this was almost disspiriting. You'd ride up a steep incline for 20 minutes, then ride down 5, then up 30, then down 5. I was foolish getting lulled into thinking I knew about the up-and-down, because the last canyon must have taken 2 hours to climb out.

I got to the top just a dusk, nearly out of water, and stopped at the little store there (which was my goal for the day - it's the intersection with the Batopilas dirt road that goes down into the canyon). Rather than have me camp on a flat section of gravel next to their family dump, they put me in an upstairs room, which was very kind, especially since it rained a lot in the night.

It's amazing. In Copper Canyon there seem to be no valleys, only canyons. Or is it only mountains, with no valleys. At home we're used to climbing over a mountain pass (big event) and then descending a few minutes into a valley, riding there an hour or two, then climbing up another pass. But here, you just go down and then start right up as soon as you cross the river. A whole different kind of riding!

I decided to backpack up to the Raramuri village of Muneriche, past the mestizo village of Cerro Colorado. It seemed like an interesting hike, but one I could do alone without much worry about getting lost. It was a great choice, just a delightful two days.

Although the hike starts at tropical elevations and it was hot, it wasn't brutally hot. Maybe like Denver some days in the summer. The hike proceeds up the river and then up an arroyo toward Cerro Colorado through hillsides and beautiful cactus. There is a road to Cerro, and one truck did offer me a ride, but most people have to walk it.

In Cerro Colorado, a village with no electricity or running water, I stopped to visit with the Candelario, the teacher at the 1-room primary school, and his students. We chatted for hours, then he went on up the canyon with me for a few minutes to his favorite swimming hole and we took a swim and a bath. (He has no other bathing facilities, so every day is a river swim day for him.)

In the late afternoon I continued up to Muneriche, which has no electricity, water, or vehicle access. You get there on foot. And there's a full boarding school there for Raramuri (Tarahumara) kids who walk as far as 4 hours to get home for the weekend. 50 students and 3 teachers. It's amazing how the school system works!

A dozen or more kids from the village came to watch me put up my tent and cook my dinner. 13-year-old Antonio, who speaks quite good Spanish, shared a bit of dinner with me. They all thought I was pretty funny.

The next day I started back down to make my appointment with the school in Cerro: I was to be the featured gringo guest and answer questions about America. It was loads of fun, but scary that many of their questions were about the American war machine. They seemed to know little else.