Daniel Cann

Apparently the canyons we were passing through were created by more than sixty million years of erosion, volcanic eruptions and faults. My guidebook informed me that the entire canyon complex is almost four times larger and two hundred and eighty feet deeper than the Grand Canyon (the Mexican’s are less prone to bragging and self promotion as not many people I have spoken to since have heard of the Copper Canyon).

The area is home to the Tarahumara Indians. Of all of Mexico’s indigenous people they have perhaps been the most successful in preserving their culture by living in the shadows of vast mountains and in the isolation of caves set in deep canyons. They are renowned for their running feats especially marathons which can last as long as three days and nights! So pretty hardy people. I always enjoy stories of the underdog surviving and as we passed through the beautiful scenery my fatigue of the past few days lifted.

The weather that day was changeable with some cloud and outbreaks of rain. But generally it was a clear and pleasant day ideal to savour the views on both sides of our carriage. At regular intervals there were cacti, gold, brown, red and grey rocks. Trees of green, yellow and burgundy covered the hillsides. The hills were strewn with boulders and the earth was a reddish colour. Nothing was put in my chilli sauce the previous night I promise! But the colours were rich and vivid and the landscape left a big impression on me.

The train meandered past small woods, canyons, shantytowns and farms with steers and donkeys. We spotted some of the Tarahumara people who wore colourful clothing and looked cheerful. There was undoubtedly poverty in this area but the people did not look defeated or downcast.

We arrived at the hotel Lorena at Los Mochis at 6.30pm. It had been a long but rewarding day on the train seeing the scenic Mexico. After cleaning up Ben and I went out to get some much needed food. Surprisingly and unexpectedly we were met with some prejudice. I don’t know to this day whether it was simply because we were Gringos or because we looked a bit scruffy (I had thick stubble, a grubby T-shirt and well worn jeans on and Ben had grown his hair long and dyed it blonde as well as sporting a thick beard). We did not resemble the clean cut young men that had left England months earlier but I don’t think we looked like trouble makers either, whatever the reasons we were repeatedly turned away from several restaurants much to our chagrin. Feeling like Captain America and Billy from the film ‘Easy Rider’ we had to eventually settle for hot dogs at a roadside café. The whole experience was a little disconcerting and we hoped the next day would be better and this was just an isolated experience.

We were wrong! The next day we walked around Los Mochis discovering that it had poorly maintained roads and unhinged and homicidal motorists! We saw a few botanical gardens and some impressive churches, as you would expect in a predominantly Catholic country. It was good to mingle with everyone and get a feel of the place; it was just frustrating that neither of us had a strong grasp of Spanish. I could only manage a few basic phrases and Ben only knew a few words.

On the way back to the hotel we encountered a few hostile glares from some local men and one old man even spat at the ground in front of us! Not a warm welcome! Maybe someone had written ‘We hate Mexico’ on the backs of our T-shirts? The main thing was that the hotel staff and taxi drivers had been helpful and friendly enough but for whatever reason we were experiencing prejudice and unpleasant behaviour directed at us. Another disconcerting sight was a policeman who was carrying a rifle that seemed longer than him!

Unsurprisingly we did not stay for long in Los Mochis and the next morning we were on a bus bound for the Pacific resort of Mazatlan where we hoped the people there would be friendlier and more welcoming. The bus service was good as passengers were given free food and drink and there were reclining seats (unlike the American Greyhound buses) and air conditioning. There was even a film for the journey. The scenery was pleasant, very green with verdant hillsides and flowerbeds on the roadside. Everything looked more prosperous and it began to feel like a holiday once more.

At Mazatlan we found a beachside hotel. Walking around the city we found it to be attractive with a huge beach stretching for quite a distance. It was nice to enjoy the views of the Pacific Ocean. I had fish on the beach (which was a risky decision with the benefit of hindsight!) After watching a particularly arresting sunset it was back to the hotel for some rest, we were feeling like tourists again and not undesirable aliens!

The following day we walked along the front and watched the clear and inviting Pacific Ocean. It was incredibly hot so we took it easy. We visited the Cathedral of the Immaculate Conception, which was beautiful. Back on the promenade we watched a few rock divers. These men were either incredibly brave or stupid as they climbed to a height of about twenty or thirty metres then dived headfirst into the sea below. With plenty of rocks and treacherous tides it was quite a hazardous pursuit. These guys must have known what they were doing as they made it all look so easy. That evening after experiencing a firework display and Mariachi musicians on the beach we watched another favourite Mexican pastime, baseball that was on our hotel television.

I was finding Mazatlan to be a friendly and lively place. Unfortunately I woke with insect bites all over my forearms and the backs of my hands, the deet had failed to protect me! The weather that following day was overcast and it rained as well. With not much to do we went for a walk along the promenade again and chatted to some American and Canadian tourists and shared experiences of Mexico, most of which were positive with a few cautionary tales thrown in! I was getting used to the place and getting over the culture shock. The next day we would be travelling to Guadalajara.