The usual struggle to get my bike out of the locked parking lot ensued this morning with the hotel in Creel. I was a bit desperate to get on my way, wary of the long drive to Batopilas at the bottom of a canyon which I knew took at least 5 hours and included one of the more famous rides among ‘adventure motorcyclists’. Eventually the night clerk, with resignation, came with me to the parking lot and scaled the fence to open the door as he didn’t have the key. A quick breakfast and two abysmal coffees and I was setting off at about 8:30am.

Eating Little Fatties

The frost on the bike quickly melted into my jeans as I wound through the now familiar twisty pine roads through canyons and past the Arepho lake. The Raramuri sat alongside the road or made their way through the forest paths for destinations unknown. I was frozen and wishing the sun would rise faster as it blinded me on every second curve. I made a roadside stop and again was fed by a family of Mexicans who were making gorditas (‘little fatties’ – fat little stuffed tortillas).

Road to Batopilas

I arrived and hour or so later at the turn off to Batopilas – a new road was being made and the GPS became confused as I passed men pissing on the road and large grading machines. After that the road was half graded gravel riven with the occasional rain rut and the scenery became more dramatic. After 40kms of this the road narrowed to one car width and wound over the highest pass. Serpentine, it wound down without guard rails until it met a tiny river and bridge far below. I had expected a terrible road but have to confess it was only as challenging technically as the mine near Temagami, Ontario that I had ridden through with my learners drivers license.

Old Fellow Who Rode With Me

I had passed a few Raramuri on my way but at one section I was going slowly and was flagged down by an old man and a younger woman in native dress. He babbled something incoherent to me and gesticulated with a wizened hand. I said ‘Batopilas?’ hopefully and he grinned idiotically. So I pointed at the two of them and then the back of my bike. They discussed it and then he tried to climb on, much to the amusement of the woman. So me and the old man wound down the canyon towards the river and after about 10kms I dropped him off and we sat for a while. I wondered if his gnarled feet hurt as I had kept stomping on them accidentally while changing gears on the road paralleling the river.

My GPS then went into overdrive – saying I should make a U-turn in 2.8 kms, which I found quite funny as any spot on this one track trail would have done. So I saw a young Raramuri in a loincloth walking along the road and asked him ‘Batopilas?’ without pointing anywhere – my new technique to extract the truth from ever helpful roadside walkers. He confirmed my direction and I said ‘Jo te-llevo?’ (I take you?) and he grinned and hopped on. He must have found the rough route on a motorbike invigorating as the his loincloth and tumescence didn’t leave much to the imagination. I dropped him off about about 3kms later and made my way into Batopilas.

Road alongside river to Batopilas, MX

Batopilas’ 1500 inhabitants live hugging the river in a deep canyon – they were the second to receive electricity in Mexico after Mexico City apparently (Lonely Planet – if it’s to be trusted). I arrived at the main square and didn’t spot my intended hotel (Real de las Minas) but was in front of a bar with outdoor courtyard tables so I stopped for a beer. Just in time for the new blaringly distorted jukebox to shatter the atmosphere. Not to worry I was joined by several fellows who shared my cigarettes and walnuts and bought me a second beer. As one went to the pool room he dropped his revolver which clattered to the cobblestones pointing just away from our table. The other concluded that he must be drunk and that that was a little dangerous.

Batopilas Main Street

I left them to check into the hotel which was just up the street. The plateless Chevy Tahoes and Cadillac Escalades attest to the regions abilities in marijuana and opium cultivation and cocaine transhipment. The hotel is wonderful and the town my favourite so far. The lovely old woman who owns the hotel sums it up when she whispers confidentially to me in Spanish, ‘Do you speak a little Spanish?, I told the Americans in the other room it’s $50 a night, so if you talk to them, tell them you paid $50 too!’, and then cackles crazily.

	Leaving Creel	Lake Arepho	Leaving Creel, MX
Leaving Creel, MX	Leaving Creel, MX	Leaving Creel, MX	Leaving Creel, MX
Leaving Creel, MX	Leaving Creel, MX	Leaving Creel, MX	Leaving Creel, MX
Leaving Creel, MX	Leaving Creel, MX	Leaving Creel, MX	Leaving Creel, MX
Leaving Creel, MX	Leaving Creel, MX	Leaving Creel, MX	Mexican Family Who Fed Me Gorditas Roadside
Leaving Creel, MX	Leaving Creel, MX	Leaving Creel, MX	Entering Canyon Territory
Road Down To Batopilas	Road Down To Batopilas	Road Down To Batopilas	Road Down To Batopilas
Road Down To Batopilas	Road Down To Batopilas	Road Down To Batopilas	Road Down To Batopilas
Road Down To Batopilas	Road Down To Batopilas	Road Down To Batopilas	Road Down To Batopilas
Road Down To Batopilas	Road Down To Batopilas	Road Down To Batopilas	Road Down To Batopilas
Road Down To Batopilas	Road Down To Batopilas	Road Down To Batopilas	Virgen Death Shrine after Bridge
Road Down To Batopilas	Old Raramuri After the lift	Road Down To Batopilas	Road Down To Batopilas
Road Down To Batopilas	Death Shrine Outside Batopilas	Road Down To Batopilas	Road Down To Batopilas
Road Down To Batopilas	Road Down To Batopilas	Road Down To Batopilas	Road Down To Batopilas
Road Down To Batopilas	Road Down To Batopilas	Batopilas Real de Las Minas Hotel	Batopilas Calle Principal
River alongside Batopilas	Calf Running in Batopilas	River alongside Batopilas

Creel to Batopilas GPX Track