The splendor of Copper Canyon

CHERRIL DOTY

“How sense-luscious the world is”

-- Diane Ackerman

There is nothing quite like a train ride to slow one down. And at

the same time, there is nothing like the long, slow ride on a foreign

train to heighten the senses.

Considered by many the Grand Canyon of Mexico, Copper Canyon -- in

truth both larger and deeper than the Grand Canyon -- is really a

series of canyons in northern Mexico. On a Thanksgiving holiday

getaway, we traveled with friends John and Bonnie through this

gorgeous area. From the lush tropical green of El Fuerte in Sinaloa

state through pine-covered mountains to the Sonoran desert of

Chihuahua City in the state of Chihuahua we traveled, largely by

train, senses magnified all the time.

Our plane landed at Los Mochis, on the eastern shore of the Sea of

Cortez, straight south of Phoenix. The sounds hit me first. A mixture

of voices -- German, American, Mexican -- mingled with the bustling

sounds of air and land transport as we gathered our luggage and

arranged for a car to take us to our first stopover in El Fuerte. We

would board the train there the next morning to begin the trip

through the canyon.

Hotel Pasado del Hidalgo, with its lush tropical gardens, sits

between Rio Fuerte and the plaza. After having been inundated with

sound in Los Mochis, here in El Fuerte I was more aware of the color

and texture of the place. The gardens offered a brilliant panoply of

color from draping purple bougainvillea to the deep pink of a

jacobinia flower and rich red hibiscus. While watching an army of

ants carry white blossoms three times their size, the whir of

hummingbird wings drew attention to a deep blue-crested variety I had

not seen before.

On a walk along the textured streets we discovered the rich colors

of sunset along the river, the massive, rough-surfaced walls of the

fort built in 1610, and a beautiful cerulean blue-painted fishing

boat. In the plaza, someone had even carved texture into the dead

stump of a tree in the shapes of birds and animals and then polished

it smooth.

We had arrived in Mexico just in time for the celebration of El

Dia de la Revolucion. After a night of restless and fitful sleep

punctuated by the sounds of the town’s revelry, it seemed every

rooster in Mexico was right behind our room, calling to us to arise

well before dawn. The morning found us waiting on a concrete platform

for the whistle that would sound the train’s arrival from Los Mochis.

When it came, we boarded the first class train and sat back to

enjoy the trip to our next stop -- Bahuichivo.

In the club car, with the background of ranchera and mariachi

music setting the scene, I watched as bright pink silk floss trees,

lemon yellow butterflies, and red-trunked madron, sprinkled the

healing green of the forest unfolding before us. Rock walls seeped

wet and shiny as we passed. The clackety-clack of the train’s wheels

sounded a soothing rhythm as the milky green of a calcium-rich river

flowed far below through the deep gorges on each side of the train.

At Bahuichivo we disembarked for a two day stay near Cercahui and

a trip into the deepest part of the canyon at Urique. From the waking

sound of rain falling on the tin roof to the sight of a large flock

of pigeons in a clear blue sky over a mission’s bell tower the feast

for the senses continued. I remember slipping on red-brown mud,

children’s soft voices, the smell of fresh, warm tortillas, clopping

of burro feet on cobblestones, the warm soft touch and toothless

smile of the young woman with Down’s syndrome. My body sways gently

recalling a walk across the river on a long suspension bridge. My

fingers remember the deep red petals of a lush garden flower. My

heart retains convivial evenings in lamplight with fellow travelers.

Back on the train, we climbed higher and higher. These mountains

rise to some 8,000 feet. We had a brief stop in Divisadero, where the

panoramic view was breathtaking, then on to our last stop in Creel

before leaving the train. We arrived after dark. The air was cold and

crisp and the clear sky overhead filled with stars and a nearly full

moon. A 30 minute drive took us to the lodge high in the mountains

where we were staying. There is no electricity there and the warm

golden glow of kerosene lanterns provided a warm welcome that was

reinforced by the musical duo, the margaritas, and the hot lentil

soup.

After a good night’s rest we wakened to sunshine and a beautiful

stretched out silence. A morning hike to Cusarare Falls with the

crunch of morning frost under our feet was one of the highlights of

the trip. High on a path above us could be heard the sound of a bell

as a Tarahumara Indian herded his goats. I still hear that sound in

my head and it conjures up all of the wonders my senses encountered

on this journey through Copper Canyon.

Chihuahua City and its hustle and bustle provided stark contrast

to the peace I found in the mountains. I found myself reluctant to

return to the world of “normal.” Still, all things come to an end,

and, as we drove in the dawn to the airport I watched as the eastern

sky changed. Dusty yellow-blue at the horizon became turquoise to

deep azure blue as my eye traveled higher. A layer of red-tinged

cloud hovered as if ready to wrap the newborn day’s sun upon its

arrival. In the west the full moon still lingered in the sky to say,

“Adios, come again.” All my senses respond, “Si, si, si!

* CHERRIL DOTY is a creative life coach and artist who loves

exploring the mysteries of life. You can reach her by e-mail at

[email protected] or by calling (949) 251-3883.