The sun rose over the distant, dusty hills as a chubby chap in bowtie and peaked hat ushered us aboard the Chihuahua Pacifico train. This was the start of our 655km journey to the Pacific coast, one of the most beautiful and evocative train journeys in the world.
The train leaves at 7am, so the first part of the journey, leaving town, is the best time to catch a little extra kip. When we opened our eyes an hour later, dry, rocky mountains scattered with yucca, cacti and scrub surrounded us. A cowboy in white laminated stetson (the local hatwear) lazily sauntered along a dirt track. In front of him lay the skull and bones of a cow lying in the charred remains of a summer scrubland fire. On the other side of the line more fortunate cattle grazed on yellow grass. Large black birds with red beaks sat on fence posts either with wings akimbo to soak up the morning sun or a beady eye on the passing train. This was cowboy country.
Hanging out of the vestibule windows we drank in the cold, fresh mountain air while the sun beat down on our faces. There were no child locks or health and safety on this vehicle. Apart from the rushing of the wind, the outside world was eerily quiet. Inside it was as noisy as a pig in a tin box. The wheels on the train screeched and clanked as we meandered uphill, dragging the four carriages from an altitude of 1,600m to 2,400m.
A man with a large automatic weapon strapped across his shoulder patrolled the carriages, accompanied by a handful of private security guards. It certainly looks like bandit country outside, so maybe they really were expecting a hold-up. A vendor with a sports bandage across his large nose took pictures of passengers on an ancient Polaroid then niftily turned them into souvenir keyrings. Food and drink was available in the standing only buffet car where you can surf the ride as you slurp a coffee. At the stations burritos, tamales and drinks were on sale through the train windows.
There are two trains in each direction each day. The first class express train takes in ten stations, the second class economy train considerably more. The latter is notorious for being slow and late. We gained first hand experience of this second class malady.
We broke the sixteen hour journey with a night in Creel, a small dusty railway town nestled in
canyon country. With its tin roofed houses, crisp cold air and mix of cave dwelling loin-cloth wearing Tarahumara (the indigenous population) and cowboy locals, it is worth at least an overnight stay. After a short tour to see the best views of the Copper Canyon itself - views that rival the Grand Canyon - and that the train journey doesn’t allow for, we waited at the next station down the line, Divisidero. The train turned up two hours late due to pranksters having parked an upturned car on the track further up the line. Divisidero is a congenial place to spend some time with wonderful canyon views, colourful Tarahumara weaving and selling baskets and rows of ‘gordita’ stalls. These wonderful little maize pockets stuffed with beans, cheese and a stew of your choice are cooked fresh on hot plates on top of oil-can wood fires.
We were overjoyed to hear the toot of our train echo through the hills and finally pull into the station, only for our bubble to be quickly burst when the carriage attendant told us the train was full. We were allowed on, but had to sit on the floor of the buffet car amongst piles of locals, gringos, luggage and gordita remains. It must be coming up to Christmas or something.
The train plodded onwards through rocky forested canyons and creeks, stopping at length to let the eastbound trains pass (for this is a single track railway) and juddering to regular halts. The views should have been amazing as we traversed wild canyon terrain, but due to the delays the sun set all too soon and plunged us into darkness. The popping of our water bottles was now the only indication of the long descent down to sea-level. Finally ensconced in a comfy reclining seat with plenty of leg room we slept. We woke at 2am in Los Mochis. The train was four and a half hours late.
In spite of the delays and occasional lack of seating, if I had the time I would do the whole journey again from west to east. This lesser known series of canyons is every bit as awesome as its neighbour to the north, only there are more canyons and fewer tourists. The Copper Canyon Railway remains one of the most spectacular and memorable train journeys on our trip so far.
The train leaves at 7am, so the first part of the journey, leaving town, is the best time to catch a little extra kip. When we opened our eyes an hour later, dry, rocky mountains scattered with yucca, cacti and scrub surrounded us. A cowboy in white laminated stetson (the local hatwear) lazily sauntered along a dirt track. In front of him lay the skull and bones of a cow lying in the charred remains of a summer scrubland fire. On the other side of the line more fortunate cattle grazed on yellow grass. Large black birds with red beaks sat on fence posts either with wings akimbo to soak up the morning sun or a beady eye on the passing train. This was cowboy country.
Hanging out of the vestibule windows we drank in the cold, fresh mountain air while the sun beat down on our faces. There were no child locks or health and safety on this vehicle. Apart from the rushing of the wind, the outside world was eerily quiet. Inside it was as noisy as a pig in a tin box. The wheels on the train screeched and clanked as we meandered uphill, dragging the four carriages from an altitude of 1,600m to 2,400m.
A man with a large automatic weapon strapped across his shoulder patrolled the carriages, accompanied by a handful of private security guards. It certainly looks like bandit country outside, so maybe they really were expecting a hold-up. A vendor with a sports bandage across his large nose took pictures of passengers on an ancient Polaroid then niftily turned them into souvenir keyrings. Food and drink was available in the standing only buffet car where you can surf the ride as you slurp a coffee. At the stations burritos, tamales and drinks were on sale through the train windows.
There are two trains in each direction each day. The first class express train takes in ten stations, the second class economy train considerably more. The latter is notorious for being slow and late. We gained first hand experience of this second class malady.
We broke the sixteen hour journey with a night in Creel, a small dusty railway town nestled in
canyon country. With its tin roofed houses, crisp cold air and mix of cave dwelling loin-cloth wearing Tarahumara (the indigenous population) and cowboy locals, it is worth at least an overnight stay. After a short tour to see the best views of the Copper Canyon itself - views that rival the Grand Canyon - and that the train journey doesn’t allow for, we waited at the next station down the line, Divisidero. The train turned up two hours late due to pranksters having parked an upturned car on the track further up the line. Divisidero is a congenial place to spend some time with wonderful canyon views, colourful Tarahumara weaving and selling baskets and rows of ‘gordita’ stalls. These wonderful little maize pockets stuffed with beans, cheese and a stew of your choice are cooked fresh on hot plates on top of oil-can wood fires.We were overjoyed to hear the toot of our train echo through the hills and finally pull into the station, only for our bubble to be quickly burst when the carriage attendant told us the train was full. We were allowed on, but had to sit on the floor of the buffet car amongst piles of locals, gringos, luggage and gordita remains. It must be coming up to Christmas or something.
The train plodded onwards through rocky forested canyons and creeks, stopping at length to let the eastbound trains pass (for this is a single track railway) and juddering to regular halts. The views should have been amazing as we traversed wild canyon terrain, but due to the delays the sun set all too soon and plunged us into darkness. The popping of our water bottles was now the only indication of the long descent down to sea-level. Finally ensconced in a comfy reclining seat with plenty of leg room we slept. We woke at 2am in Los Mochis. The train was four and a half hours late.
In spite of the delays and occasional lack of seating, if I had the time I would do the whole journey again from west to east. This lesser known series of canyons is every bit as awesome as its neighbour to the north, only there are more canyons and fewer tourists. The Copper Canyon Railway remains one of the most spectacular and memorable train journeys on our trip so far.
2 comments:
Once again, when you reach that proverbial point where things have settled down, pick up a copy of Abbey's Road by Edward Abbey. He took a trip on that same railroad years ago and made some observations you might appreciate. I'd make to trip myself, but I don't do well in crowds, and fare even worse in crowded boxcars.
Merry Christmas to you both,
Rober
Ciao Lorrissa and Tom.....My good, wise and sadly now ex work-colleague and friend Teri forwarded me your 'Copper Canyon Railway' blog...did enjoy reading and felt like I too was making the journey with you.......Look forward to reading more......
Angeleeena
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