DCB
Guest
I posted this over on the board where I spend more time, but since three of our five bikes on this adventure were 12GS models, I figured you might find it interesting. Anyway, here goes.
A year and a half ago, just on a whim, BIll Hawkins and I rode to the Copper Canyon. It was a quick trip and we largely stayed on paved roads. But it was so spectacular that I determined to head back there for more of a dual sport adventure, and so six months ago the planning began. Not in earnest, but at least determining a date.
We ended up with five: me, David Bearden (GTR), Mark Davis (madavis), Kenny Haynes, and Dex. Here's a brief tale of our adventure (thanks to Mark for a few of these pictures).
The Copper Canyon is largely a southern extension of North America's Grand Canyon, only it's deeper and largely unexplored. There are certainly no motor homes to pass on a double yellow.
Thursday, March 3
Bearden and I live in Nashville, so all we needed was for Mark (Atlanta) and Kenny (near Knoxville) to join us. They pulled in that evening and we loaded the trailer, full of anticipation. We would put all four bikes on Bearden's aluminum racing car trailer and tow it with his diesel Dodge Ram truck. I barely slept that night thinking about how all the months of excitement were about to unfold. After a great steak dinner Julie put on for us, there was nothing left to do but head to bed.
Friday, March 4
We left early (6:00a), knowing we wanted to make it past Dallas and spend the night in Fort Worth. We drove 750 miles that day and made it as far as we planned.
Here is Bearden:
Here is Kenny:
And here's Mark--note the severe excitement!
They just couldn't wait to get going so we set them on the trailer for a bit!
Saturday, March 5
Dex, from Houston, got up early and rode 800 miles to Presidio, TX, where we also met him after another 550 miles. (Texas is one big ass state.) We'd decided to cross the border from there into Ojinaga. It's the closest crossing and it's not nearly as busy as the more commercial ports of entry. We pulled into our "luxury" hotel:
...and quickly unloaded so that we could get the truck and trailer over to an auto parts store where Dex had arranged storage:
They'd decided to close early that day, but kindly left us a sign indicating where they lived. So I went searching for a key and we were all set:
After repacking for the trip, Mark and Kenny rode to Big Bend while Bearden and I practiced on this hill behind the hotel. I'll let Bearden decide if he wants to confess anything.
:
Sunday, March 6
Ready to go! The big day has arrived. The border crossing is less than a mile from our hotel, and we arrive at 7:15 and park the bikes while we get all the paperwork in order:
Everything went as planned until the last person--Bearden--got to the front of the line. In spite of some misinformation on an official Mexico web site, it's not enough for the owner of a bike to be there when the non-owner wants to get a temporary importation permit. The two parties must be closely related or married.
Our spirits quickly sank as we pleaded and begged for an exception to no avail. We'd decided that Bearden would ride my KLR to the airport (250 miles away) and fly home from there, where we'd collect the bike on our way home, or we'd all just bag the trip and ride in Texas instead.
While chatting with the border guards they mentioned that our only hope was to talk to the new boss (El Director de Operaciones) who would be here "en una media hora" (a half hour). Having nothing much to lose, we waited until 8:15; then 9:15; then 10:15; then 11:15; then 12:15, when he finally arrived. He was a former attorney and a nice gentlemen. We chatted in Spanish and I explained our situation calmly and respectfully, noting that I'd been a good citizen for 13 years, that we'd driven 1,300 miles and planned this trip for months, and could he please make an exception for us? He graciously agreed to do just that and another round of paperwork began. But the relief among our little group was palpable and we were once again on track.
The sooner we got on our bikes the better, so we did. Here are shots of the two KLRs--loaded for bear. Fred Sanford would be proud.
We made our way into the Mexican desert, stopped at the edge of the "free zone" to ensure that our paperwork was in order, but were waived through the military checkpoint just down the road. It was just over 300 miles to Creel, but since we got a late start, we ended up riding the last hour and a half in the cold and dark at 8,000 feet. Not the brightest thing to do in Mexico, but a risk we were willing to take. I led with my newly and gratefully installed HID lights and night turned to day.
Monday, March 7
Monday, after a tough previous day, I suggested that we delay our trip down into the Canyon to Batopilas and instead go to Divisadero, which was an easy paved trip, and then go off road along the canyon's rim. It was a good plan on paper but didn't turn out quite that way.
The morning started with frost on the bikes:
Though it warmed up pretty quickly:
Our first stop was Divisadero, and the view from there into the west canyon is spectacular:
The smile here belies my fear of heights:
There's not much here except a place to stay and a market, both of which cater to tourists on this little train whistle stop through the canyon:
From there we rimmed the edge and then turned west to descend to Urique. We'd heard that this road could be impassable, and it was very, very rough going. Slow and tortuous at places:
We got two-thirds of the way before turning around--we were going to run out of daylight and the bikes were really taking a pounding. But it was a great first day in the canyon, and we returned tired and glad to be riding where we were.
Tuesday, March 8
This was a big day. We packed knowing we'd not return that evening, instead electing to spend the night in Batopilas instead. It's a teeny village at the southeastern edge of the base of the Barancas del Cobre, the Copper Canyon.
The first part of the trip is paved, and we stopped at one particularly picturesque spot among many to shoot some pictures:
About 45 miles from Creel, we refueled at a lone gas station (there are none in Batopilas, though you can buy it out of 55 gallon drums) and hit the dirt. The first portion is a winding dirt road through beautiful pine forests. The riding is not challenging (yet) and allows for some nice site seeing. What a nice relief from the bone jarring ride of the day before. Here's Mark standing at the road's edge:
Soon we rounded a sharp corner and the depth of the canyon opened before us, and we decided that it was the perfect place to stop for lunch, which typically was some fruit, snack bars, and bottled water we'd purchased the night before. No camera can capture this vista, but maybe these will give you some idea of what we saw:
Here's Kenny getting ready to confess all his sins until we told him there wasn't time.
And here's Bearden relaxing in the moment...
...only to later decide to call his business partner on the satellite phone to rub it all in.:
Here's a 20MB video clip of our descent down to the bottom of the canyon, where the Urique river marks the center of the canyon. It's 3:30 minutes long. Click here to watch the QuickTime movie. There are three clips. In the first, we come around the corner to see the canyon below and I pull over to get a still. In the second, I catch up to the guys where they've stopped for lunch and where nearly all the pictures above were taken. In the third, we continue after lunch as it begins to rain. Note especially the sharp left corner after which you can see the riders behind me to the top/left of the frame, as we turn back around on ourselves. We got soaked right after this.
Next we began a steep descent to that river in the picture above. It's hard to see from this first picture, but the winding strips below are the same road depicted in the second picture (I can't remember where I got this aerial or I'd give the author credit):
Here's Dex waxing philosophical just before it began to rain pretty heavily on our descent. That was a bit treacherous on the slippery rocks.
Later we stopped to take off our rain gear.
One of the bikes toppled when the side stand dug into the soft earth and here Kenny and Bearden effect a JB Weld repair:
We passed a bull on the narrow, one-lane canyon road and Mark was eager to get a picture. So eager that he waited 20 mins for this shot. Unfortunately, he only got the bull's rear end because Dex scared it as it passed through the viewfinder.:
This white tree, up on the hill side behind us, seemed to be "poured on the rocks." It seems quite out of place:
The majesty of this place seemed like the perfect spot for a brochure picture of the 12GS:
And a bird enjoyed performing for us...
Before it was time to outrun the approaching storm behind us:
We finished the 40-mile dirt trek into Batopilas and our scouting party (actually, it was just Dex and Bearden hunting down beer) found our "hotel"--a room with four beds:
But there was room to park out front and so we unloaded and settled in for the night:
I didn't hide the key to the tequila cabinet, and found the boys having a little fun without me:
And even Bearden joined the fun. And no, I don't think the red face was from the sun!:
We found a "home restaurant" a few blocks away and had supper while a sandal maker worked away just outside:
Here are a few shots from the courtyard just outside "Carolinas."
It had been a long day, but we enjoyed some cigars on a patio outside our room where I'd never seen so many stars in one sky:
Wednesday, March 9
We slipped out as soon as it was light and headed deeper into the canyon to the "Lost Cathedral of Satevo." It's a small church in the middle of nowhere (4.5 miles from Batopilas) at the end of a nasty "path." We were wishing we'd walked instead of ridden.
Here's a 13MB video clip of our trip along the path to Satevo. It's 2:20 long. Click here to watch the QuickTime movie.
Here's a pretty view from the trail, which was barely wide enough for one car. Notice the colored tree at one end:
The church itself was interesting, if for no other reason than its existence is a mystery.
A little girl told us we could borrow a key from the nearby home, so we went inside to find a very simple monument with some interesting features:
We got a shot of the kids who were obviously skipping school to come and say "Hi" to us:
Then picked our way back across the trail, through Batopilas, and back through the 40 miles of canyon roads to pavement:
We stopped briefly at an interesting lake just outside Creel:
Thursday, March 10
We packed up and loaded our dirty, somewhat scarred bikes and headed the 300 miles back across the border:
Friday, March 11
My bike had a problem we couldn't diagnose (more on that later, but it turned out to be nothing) and Bearden's wrist was hurting, so he and I drove to Fort Stockton while Dex, Mark, and Kenny explored Big Bend a bit more. Dex peeled off toward Houston and Mark and Kenny met us in Fort Stockton. We loaded the two remaining bikes on the trailer and headed to the Midland airport, where I flew to St. Louis to pick up a waiting vehicle and the three of them continued on to Nashville.
I'll start a separate post about how our various bikes fared, and I also have three hours of video to edit down to some short clips, but this is long enough as it is. I'm a US citizen and love this country, but just honestly, Latin America is "home" to me, having lived there nearly all my young life. I don't even think of it that way when I'm going about my daily life up here, but when I get down there, something changes and I feel so much more "at home." It was a good trip and a great adventure. Thanks for Julie, Deece, Christine, Grace, and Lisa for letting the five of us go. And gentlemen, I'll never forget this trip! Good companionship. Good riding. Good food. Good weather. Good about everything.
A year and a half ago, just on a whim, BIll Hawkins and I rode to the Copper Canyon. It was a quick trip and we largely stayed on paved roads. But it was so spectacular that I determined to head back there for more of a dual sport adventure, and so six months ago the planning began. Not in earnest, but at least determining a date.
We ended up with five: me, David Bearden (GTR), Mark Davis (madavis), Kenny Haynes, and Dex. Here's a brief tale of our adventure (thanks to Mark for a few of these pictures).
The Copper Canyon is largely a southern extension of North America's Grand Canyon, only it's deeper and largely unexplored. There are certainly no motor homes to pass on a double yellow.
Thursday, March 3
Bearden and I live in Nashville, so all we needed was for Mark (Atlanta) and Kenny (near Knoxville) to join us. They pulled in that evening and we loaded the trailer, full of anticipation. We would put all four bikes on Bearden's aluminum racing car trailer and tow it with his diesel Dodge Ram truck. I barely slept that night thinking about how all the months of excitement were about to unfold. After a great steak dinner Julie put on for us, there was nothing left to do but head to bed.
Friday, March 4
We left early (6:00a), knowing we wanted to make it past Dallas and spend the night in Fort Worth. We drove 750 miles that day and made it as far as we planned.
Here is Bearden:
Here is Kenny:
And here's Mark--note the severe excitement!
They just couldn't wait to get going so we set them on the trailer for a bit!
Saturday, March 5
Dex, from Houston, got up early and rode 800 miles to Presidio, TX, where we also met him after another 550 miles. (Texas is one big ass state.) We'd decided to cross the border from there into Ojinaga. It's the closest crossing and it's not nearly as busy as the more commercial ports of entry. We pulled into our "luxury" hotel:
...and quickly unloaded so that we could get the truck and trailer over to an auto parts store where Dex had arranged storage:
They'd decided to close early that day, but kindly left us a sign indicating where they lived. So I went searching for a key and we were all set:
After repacking for the trip, Mark and Kenny rode to Big Bend while Bearden and I practiced on this hill behind the hotel. I'll let Bearden decide if he wants to confess anything.
:
Sunday, March 6
Ready to go! The big day has arrived. The border crossing is less than a mile from our hotel, and we arrive at 7:15 and park the bikes while we get all the paperwork in order:
Everything went as planned until the last person--Bearden--got to the front of the line. In spite of some misinformation on an official Mexico web site, it's not enough for the owner of a bike to be there when the non-owner wants to get a temporary importation permit. The two parties must be closely related or married.
Our spirits quickly sank as we pleaded and begged for an exception to no avail. We'd decided that Bearden would ride my KLR to the airport (250 miles away) and fly home from there, where we'd collect the bike on our way home, or we'd all just bag the trip and ride in Texas instead.
While chatting with the border guards they mentioned that our only hope was to talk to the new boss (El Director de Operaciones) who would be here "en una media hora" (a half hour). Having nothing much to lose, we waited until 8:15; then 9:15; then 10:15; then 11:15; then 12:15, when he finally arrived. He was a former attorney and a nice gentlemen. We chatted in Spanish and I explained our situation calmly and respectfully, noting that I'd been a good citizen for 13 years, that we'd driven 1,300 miles and planned this trip for months, and could he please make an exception for us? He graciously agreed to do just that and another round of paperwork began. But the relief among our little group was palpable and we were once again on track.
The sooner we got on our bikes the better, so we did. Here are shots of the two KLRs--loaded for bear. Fred Sanford would be proud.
We made our way into the Mexican desert, stopped at the edge of the "free zone" to ensure that our paperwork was in order, but were waived through the military checkpoint just down the road. It was just over 300 miles to Creel, but since we got a late start, we ended up riding the last hour and a half in the cold and dark at 8,000 feet. Not the brightest thing to do in Mexico, but a risk we were willing to take. I led with my newly and gratefully installed HID lights and night turned to day.
Monday, March 7
Monday, after a tough previous day, I suggested that we delay our trip down into the Canyon to Batopilas and instead go to Divisadero, which was an easy paved trip, and then go off road along the canyon's rim. It was a good plan on paper but didn't turn out quite that way.
The morning started with frost on the bikes:
Though it warmed up pretty quickly:
Our first stop was Divisadero, and the view from there into the west canyon is spectacular:
The smile here belies my fear of heights:
There's not much here except a place to stay and a market, both of which cater to tourists on this little train whistle stop through the canyon:
From there we rimmed the edge and then turned west to descend to Urique. We'd heard that this road could be impassable, and it was very, very rough going. Slow and tortuous at places:
We got two-thirds of the way before turning around--we were going to run out of daylight and the bikes were really taking a pounding. But it was a great first day in the canyon, and we returned tired and glad to be riding where we were.
Tuesday, March 8
This was a big day. We packed knowing we'd not return that evening, instead electing to spend the night in Batopilas instead. It's a teeny village at the southeastern edge of the base of the Barancas del Cobre, the Copper Canyon.
The first part of the trip is paved, and we stopped at one particularly picturesque spot among many to shoot some pictures:
About 45 miles from Creel, we refueled at a lone gas station (there are none in Batopilas, though you can buy it out of 55 gallon drums) and hit the dirt. The first portion is a winding dirt road through beautiful pine forests. The riding is not challenging (yet) and allows for some nice site seeing. What a nice relief from the bone jarring ride of the day before. Here's Mark standing at the road's edge:
Soon we rounded a sharp corner and the depth of the canyon opened before us, and we decided that it was the perfect place to stop for lunch, which typically was some fruit, snack bars, and bottled water we'd purchased the night before. No camera can capture this vista, but maybe these will give you some idea of what we saw:
Here's Kenny getting ready to confess all his sins until we told him there wasn't time.
And here's Bearden relaxing in the moment...
...only to later decide to call his business partner on the satellite phone to rub it all in.
:
Here's a 20MB video clip of our descent down to the bottom of the canyon, where the Urique river marks the center of the canyon. It's 3:30 minutes long. Click here to watch the QuickTime movie. There are three clips. In the first, we come around the corner to see the canyon below and I pull over to get a still. In the second, I catch up to the guys where they've stopped for lunch and where nearly all the pictures above were taken. In the third, we continue after lunch as it begins to rain. Note especially the sharp left corner after which you can see the riders behind me to the top/left of the frame, as we turn back around on ourselves. We got soaked right after this.
Next we began a steep descent to that river in the picture above. It's hard to see from this first picture, but the winding strips below are the same road depicted in the second picture (I can't remember where I got this aerial or I'd give the author credit):
Here's Dex waxing philosophical just before it began to rain pretty heavily on our descent. That was a bit treacherous on the slippery rocks.
Later we stopped to take off our rain gear.
One of the bikes toppled when the side stand dug into the soft earth and here Kenny and Bearden effect a JB Weld repair:
We passed a bull on the narrow, one-lane canyon road and Mark was eager to get a picture. So eager that he waited 20 mins for this shot. Unfortunately, he only got the bull's rear end because Dex scared it as it passed through the viewfinder.
:
This white tree, up on the hill side behind us, seemed to be "poured on the rocks." It seems quite out of place:
The majesty of this place seemed like the perfect spot for a brochure picture of the 12GS:
And a bird enjoyed performing for us...
Before it was time to outrun the approaching storm behind us:
We finished the 40-mile dirt trek into Batopilas and our scouting party (actually, it was just Dex and Bearden hunting down beer) found our "hotel"--a room with four beds:
But there was room to park out front and so we unloaded and settled in for the night:
I didn't hide the key to the tequila cabinet, and found the boys having a little fun without me:
And even Bearden joined the fun. And no, I don't think the red face was from the sun!
:
We found a "home restaurant" a few blocks away and had supper while a sandal maker worked away just outside:
Here are a few shots from the courtyard just outside "Carolinas."
It had been a long day, but we enjoyed some cigars on a patio outside our room where I'd never seen so many stars in one sky:
Wednesday, March 9
We slipped out as soon as it was light and headed deeper into the canyon to the "Lost Cathedral of Satevo." It's a small church in the middle of nowhere (4.5 miles from Batopilas) at the end of a nasty "path." We were wishing we'd walked instead of ridden.
Here's a 13MB video clip of our trip along the path to Satevo. It's 2:20 long. Click here to watch the QuickTime movie.
Here's a pretty view from the trail, which was barely wide enough for one car. Notice the colored tree at one end:
The church itself was interesting, if for no other reason than its existence is a mystery.
A little girl told us we could borrow a key from the nearby home, so we went inside to find a very simple monument with some interesting features:
We got a shot of the kids who were obviously skipping school to come and say "Hi" to us:
Then picked our way back across the trail, through Batopilas, and back through the 40 miles of canyon roads to pavement:
We stopped briefly at an interesting lake just outside Creel:
Thursday, March 10
We packed up and loaded our dirty, somewhat scarred bikes and headed the 300 miles back across the border:
Friday, March 11
My bike had a problem we couldn't diagnose (more on that later, but it turned out to be nothing) and Bearden's wrist was hurting, so he and I drove to Fort Stockton while Dex, Mark, and Kenny explored Big Bend a bit more. Dex peeled off toward Houston and Mark and Kenny met us in Fort Stockton. We loaded the two remaining bikes on the trailer and headed to the Midland airport, where I flew to St. Louis to pick up a waiting vehicle and the three of them continued on to Nashville.
I'll start a separate post about how our various bikes fared, and I also have three hours of video to edit down to some short clips, but this is long enough as it is. I'm a US citizen and love this country, but just honestly, Latin America is "home" to me, having lived there nearly all my young life. I don't even think of it that way when I'm going about my daily life up here, but when I get down there, something changes and I feel so much more "at home." It was a good trip and a great adventure. Thanks for Julie, Deece, Christine, Grace, and Lisa for letting the five of us go. And gentlemen, I'll never forget this trip!
Good companionship. Good riding. Good food. Good weather. Good about everything.
I'll email you the entire RAW photo if you like, but it's 20MB! 
