Saturday, 30 December 2017

Cowboys Are Not Always Hot

Cowboy fantasies seem to be universal. Girls, boys, gays, trans, those with unusual pronouns, and Germans (for some weird reason especially people from Germany) and basically everyone, including even robots (ref. Westworld) fantasize themselves as gun-toting, sombrero-wearing, bad-asses-but-with-hearts-in-the-right-place sorts of people.

We too reimagine ourselves as too-hot-to-handle coffee drinking cowboys(girls) that’r into horses and/or boys that’r also into horses ‘n cacti ‘n leather goods.

The moniker “cowboy” however is gendered, so forgive us when we use that word. Realize that what we really mean is Horse People. We all want to be horse people. And for other horse people to think we are the hot sort of horse people that other horse people, you know, want to be horsey with.

But Alice just informed me that that isn’t it at all. What we are both trying to say is we wanted to go on a train. The train is called “El Chepe”, the Copper Canyon Train and on the train and in the canyon there are people who wear sombreros.


We got to our train-ride starting place at a town called “El Fuerte”. This seemed like a really sexy name for the start of a cowboy fantasy. But after a promising start, our protagonist writer cowboy promptly got taken by a strong Mexican mala, under which affliction would he spend most of his stay at the charming hotel Torres in the prone condition known as “no romantico, muy banyos.” Luckily Alice was unaffected and able to escape the sick room and try to catch the eye of all the manly El Fuerte cowboys by taking pictures of them.




Courtyard in the 400 year old Torres del Fuerte Hotel


The Fiji Room and Greg's sick bed



This looks interesting.    Let's go inside.


The bar at the Torres del Fuerte Hotel


Stuff on the wall.


Keeping a close eye on the gringos at the bar



 #cowboylove #sexy #hot #badass




Love in El Fuerte


Baptism Photo 


The Quinceanera Celebration - 15th birthday passage to womanhood.     
Fuck that's young.   She should be out climbing trees.


The Hill of the Mask - Petroglyphs 800 to 2500 years old

Still feeling queasy on the morning of the second day, and giving my sphincter what the British might call “stiff upper lip instructions”, we presented ourselves to the conductor and were allowed on the train.

The Chepe train is an old-school marvel, with uniformed staff and a traditional dining car. El Tren de El Chepe is pleasure to ride on, but really the whole point of the undertaking is to admire the incredible views out of the rail car windows. Tren El Chepe winds through a massive canyon system formed by the Rio Urique. The scale of this natural formation dwarfs that of the better known Grand Canyon of Arizona, and the views are simply spectacular, as are the mind-boggling feats of railroad engineering required to build a line through this rugged terrain. The train tracks cling to the steepest imaginable slopes and the line includes eighty six mountain tunnels of up to 7km length and numerous humongous bridge spans.

What better way to get up close and personal with a cowboy than at a ranch? At Bahuichivo we checked in for some country living at Cabanas San Isidro. A nice wood burning stove in our room kept us warm in the tolerably chilly nights. We adventured down 1,800m to the valley floor and the namesake town of Urique, not on a horse, but on a roof with seats. Wee!

At rancho San Isidro we met a lovely Mexican family from Tepic and toured another little town with them called Cerrocahui. Being from a hot part of Mexico, they had to dress up in puffy clothes, and we as Canadians responded, “Cold? This ain’t cold!”



Cabanas San Isidro


Cabanas San Isidro - campfires at night


Riding on top


Heading 1800 meters down to Urique


Wazoo!!!    Hang on tight.   Seatbelts broken.


Urique




See Greg Run




Overheating on the climb up


Cerocahui tour - Canadian in T-shirt & Mexican in the puffy jacket.


Cerocahui Catholic Boarding School for the local Tarahumara girls


The train stop at Posada Barrancas is famous for its crazy precipitous views, the Hotel Mirador and for its adventure park. Being too cheap to spring $300/night for the Mirador, we stayed in the nights in modest rooms at Cabanos Diaz. In the afternoons we mooched off the Mirador’s luxurious accommodations and enjoyed the viewing deck with a bottle of their wine.

The skyrider zip line at Barrancas is the longest in the world and takes you flying in your little canvass seat at over 120km/h across the canyon. The near freezing rain drops felt a lot like bullets on our cheeks! It felt a lot like a skydive, actually, though maybe a slight bit tamer. At night in our Diaz cabin we were thankful for a great big fireplace and a large supply of firewood. Hmmm, it does seem to be getting cold in cowboy country...



Hotel Mirador view




Zip Lines

El Chepe at Posada Barrancas station


Which way to the Cabanas Diaz?


Cabanas Diaz



Staying warm at night


Met us at the station and brought us to the Cabanas


#happycowgirl




Our horse handlers



Next stop was Creel, and the recent snowfall convinced us that it was time to stop pretending that it was in any way warm outside. A shopping excursion provided us with some touques and gloves. We needed those for a mountain bike excursion through Tarahumara country, where interesting rock formations included some very tall rocks known as “Bisabirachi”, translating as “Valley of the Erect Penises”. Cowfolk are straight talking people, doncha know?

After getting slightly lost on the bikes and forced to route-find our way home on paths that wound through Tarahumara homesteads, it was time to head out again on the train. Last stop, Chihuahua.




Tarahumara selling baskets at the train stop






Biking in Creel



Bisabirachi - Valley of the Erect Penises







More beautiful countryside was viewed from the dining car window frames, with our window rubbernecking finally terminated by darkness. Getting off the train at nearly 10pm and with our sombrero fantasies abating, we checked in to a lovely room at Hotel San Felipe El Real.

Chihuahua looks like a town worth further exploration, but sadly we had time only for a late dinner overlooking the lights of the church square. The morning would take us on a flight back to Mazatlan and a return to everyday boat life. Adios, all you sexy, leather clad, hat-wearing hombres and chicas. Until next time!


Last stop - Hotel San Felipe El Real in Chihuahua

Monday, 18 December 2017

Southward Ho, with Bro

Our most northerly location in the Sea of Cortez now behind us, we pointed the bow south and towards a rendezvous in Puerto Escondido with Greg's brother, Gord. 

Given that we were heading back through now familiar waters, it was a retracing trip for us but new for Gord. For any sailor, the Sea of Cortez offers special pleasures in the form of clear warm waters, lots of sea life and spectacular craggy dry terrain. My brother being also a sailor, we looked forward to showing him some of the aforementioned pleasures.

Happily, this would be a trip made mostly all downhill, with winds from the north and destinations south-eastward. Heading to meet Gord, Alice and Greg's 30th anniversary was spent sailing in said downhill bliss with 25 on the starboard stern and surfing speeds thru 16 knots. Sporty stuff indeed, but more to Greg's taste than Alice's. Do we need to mention that on a boat there is never a condition where every member of a crew is completely happy?

Picking up Gord, we whirl winded south: our myriad agenda including every possible sailing condition, golf, kayaking in the mangroves, snorkeling with both fishes and sea lions, hiking beach trails, playing bata-ball, and relaxing in the night hours with games of Wizard, Scrabble and watching movies leavened by probably more wine and Margaritas than any of us would have been smart to imbibe. 

Eventually we made La Paz and after another game of golf it was time to cross the Sea of Cortez. This being an ocean crossing where anything could potentially happen weather wise, there were preparations to be made. For those unfamiliar with the scope of such undertakings, we provide an abbreviated list:
  • Deflate and stow dingy and kayaks below.
  • Install jack-lines on deck to clip into to prevent crew going overboard.
  • Inspect all lifejackets with tethers for functioning AIS transponders, MOB transmitters, light strobes and fit.
  • Stow solar panels and sunshades.
  • Stow all loose items against the possibility of violent seas.
  • Tie lee-cloths and move everyone's sleeping quarters to pipe berths.
  • And last and not least, lay on a ridiculous excess of provisions as if heading out for Tahiti and not a 1-1/2 day crossing. 
And again, for those not having experienced sailing off-shore:
  • There is no anchoring at night; we keep sailing all the time.
  • No one but a newbie gives a damn about losing sight of land: we are usually too bored out of our minds (or if the water is really rough, taming our stomachs against the other crew witnessing us puking) to care.
  • We do watches. What this means is being alone on deck in the middle of night fighting off sleep bored out of your mind (or occasionally terrified).
  • Those off watch pretend to sleep, tired, sweaty, stinky, with no comfortable position, and experiencing lurid dreams.
On this passage we started motoring, praying for wind so we could sail, finally getting some after Alice's excellent sunset dinner of store bought tuna (note that we are usually shitty at catching fish) and then experiencing even more of the rank and dirty sorts of lurid dreams, because it is bloody noisy on a boat while resting in your bunk when there is wind and sea.

So that's it folks. Sunrise happens and you wake up and then there is land. 

For those of you who might quibble that my description above of our trip across the Sea is too abbreviated, well just go do your own damn trip. Wait, did I mention that on this crossing lots of dolphins swam on the bow, we sailed fast as stink at night, there were dead squid on the deck in the morning and other cool things that happened? Oops. Guess you just had to be there...



Sailing south with the wind behind us now.



Beautiful Red Rock anchorage at Punta Pulpito.


We grilled our prized Spanish Mackerel.    Yumm.   Wish we caught more of these.


Anduril at sunset at Punta Pulpito.  Not the usual comfy cruiser.



Welcome to the boat, Gord.


Somewhere between Puerto Escondido and Agua Verde.


Hiking into the fishing village at Agua Verde.


Finally, found the cemetery at Agua Verde.   Last burial was a baby in 1961.


The tienda at Agua Verde was actually very well stocked but no goat cheese today.


 Goats in Agua Verde supplying the local dairy with milk for the prized goat cheese.


Playing bata-ball with the kids.


Nothing much else to do.


Puerto Los Gatos



Kayaking and bata-ball at Puerto Los Gatos.


Sierra de la Giganta



We bought red snapper straight off a fishermen's boat in San Evaristo.


Ensenada Grande on Espiritu Santo.   My last swim in the Sea of Cortez.   I'll miss it.


Provisioning in La Paz for the crossing.
The bakery section in the large supermarkets in Mexico are the best.   Pick and fill your tray.


Preparing (in spirit) for the 200 nm crossing from the Baja to Mazatlan.


Made it!    Fish boat offshore at Mazatlan.