Day 7-Batopolis, MX-March 22

I'm going to move beyond this cold morning thing. We'll be losing altitude today so temperatures shouldn't be a problem. Inside the courtyard of the motel, which are always locked at night down here, a street urchin is selling necklaces. I've been looking for this exact thing and buy two for a dollar each. We are getting into having Chorizo and eggs for breakfast. We also have to have tortillas and salsa. The Best Western in Creel, while being great in many things, has the blandest salsa we've ever had. Make it interesting or don't make it at all. I'll talk to the salsa police at the border. Forrest's bike barely starts, but it starts and we are out of Creel. Our stop for the evening will be Batopolis in the bottom of the canyon. Hopefully, the road gods will be more forgiving today than they were yesterday. The day starts out the same.
	We are on paved roads overlooking the now usual stunning scenery. We blast by tour buses from Creel. This isn't something we saw yesterday. Inside are many sardines looking out of their aquarium. For us the sky is our roof.. The ride starts in a pine forest and we'll progress through a deciduous/pine forest combination and finally a desert. In the process we'll lose about 6,000 ft of altitude. The changes are dramatic.

In Samachic we lose the paved road. Forrest wonders why he hears chanting from the bike ahead of him. A lot of it has to due with some Harley riders in Creel telling us that the road was paved all the way to Batapolis. They clearly haven't been there. The road is better than yesterday, but that is like saying that eating chopped up razor blades is better than eating whole ones. Unlike yesterday I'm not mentally writing my will every second.
	We are in goat herding country and see 20 goats to every cow. We also see 3 burros for every cow. The local native Indian people are quite prevalent and are dressed in traditional garb. I avoid taking their pictures because it is what they prefer. In general they are an attractive people who are in great shape from walking all over these mountains, usually carrying wood. The canyons are criss-crossed with foot paths.
	Words cannot describe the next sight, so I'll get a picture of it in my mind and mentally transmit it to you. Did that work? No. Oh well. We are approaching La Bufa and the most magnificent vista I've ever seen opens in front of us. There is the largest, deepest canyon I've encountered and we are sitting at the top rim. Five thousand feet below us, along the river, is La Bufa. Picture being on the rim of the Grand Canyon, but it's green, deeper, and you get to drive to the bottom. If you are afraid of heights you should wean yourself on the top of the Empire State building first. We are up there with a 10 foot wide road clinging to the side of the mountain. No, there are no shoulders, guardrails, or crossing guards. On the way down we will traverse at least 20 switchbacks while dodging burros.

GREAT!



	It's getting hot and we are stopping often for both water and pictures. We occasionally stop in the middle of the road since that's the only place to stop. Forrest and I are both carrying an extra gallon of water each. I have enough digital media for over 300 pictures and could use it all up in this canyon alone. In La Bufa a small bridge crosses the river. We'll follow that river, along a cliff, for several more miles before we get to Batopilas. We are fully in the desert now as we follow the river. My senses are reeling. US reality comes back to me as we pass a group of tour bus (van) people along side the road, under shades, being served lunch. Is this their idea of an adventure? One lady jokingly sticks out her thumb as if hitch hiking. I shout back "I wouldn't want you to muss your nails sweetie." To each their own.


	Batopilas is a great town of over 1,000 residents and is much larger than I would have guessed. As Mayberry would represent small town USA in the states, in my mind this represents small town Mexico. Thanks to Justin at Pancho Villa tours we stop at the Real de Minas Motel. It is quite a distance into town, but don't give up. The owner is Marteen and Antonio runs the place. They are gracious hosts. I'm sitting in the courtyard of the motel under the night sky writing this. Outside the gates to the motel the town and it's children are playing volleyball. The people are happy and loving. Earlier Marteen helps us get gasoline from a barrel. It's of questionable octane. I just hope it's unleaded. Since they don't sell leaded in Mexico anymore I feel fairly certain. There are many small restaurant/home combinations and we eat at Carolinas. Number 5 is an authentic Batopilas meal and is very good. After dinner, we sit in the courtyard as Marteen brings us limes and kumquats from his trees. These trees are interlaced with flowering vines. That, the fountain, the tiles, the sounds from the streets make Forrest and I very mellow. As the sun goes down we take a walk out on a long suspension bridge and look at the stars. There are a lot of them. Below us on the river bank the army is setting up a mobile satellite dish for communication. These guys are part of the town and act like members rather than a police force. Forrest and I are living the high life. Como se dice work?