Chihuahuan desert wanderings (long post)

We’ve pondered many names for our combi/casa, as we refer to her with people we meet. Rosito was one of the original contenders, and althea really likes rosi, but it doesn’t seem to be sticking. Courtney proposed Remedios la belleza (Remedios the Beauty, from 100 Years of Solitude). I like the idea of her as a remedy, but remedios doesn’t seem to roll well. I’m thinking we’ll go with Commandante Catarina, after the more common name for ladybug. There’s some continuity there.

After crossing the Mexican border, thankful for our long anticipated reprieve from the US and especially the crazy bureaucramania of DC, it was laughably absurd to drive up on, in the middle of the Chihuahuan desert, on a road without any other signs of civilization, a near exact replica of DC’s most emblematic monument. Looking back over the past week, we are now able to see the irony of this dreamlike moment as a portent of things to come.


Driving on into Ciudad Chihuahua, we spent the night at the Deportivo Ciudad, where there are excellent sporting fields situated amidst a beautifully groomed park ringed with a dirt track for jogging and the like. We had heard it that the parking lot there was open for overnight camping, you could use the bathrooms, and there was some security as well. It was surprising to see such a diversity of activities going on—large volleyball practices, pick-up basketball games, baseball practice, intramural flag football practice, tennis, squash, on and on. We had the most fun watching track and field practices while the sun went down. Althea loved trying to work her way into what appeared to be Olympic-like high jump lessons for girls as young as 5 or 6. I must say, though, that the extreme athleticism of these Chihuahuans was a little annoying. Even as the hours waned on, and the air became quite cold, the activities didn’t cease. It almost seemed like the number of joggers (and the ages of the joggers) was increasing. And there was a band practice—marching band or something, I don’t know, but it was big and interminable, like a Phillip Sousa free jazz experiment. We expected to be some of the only people camping here, but no, there was a caravan of 20 RVers already parked here when we arrived. The morning brought with it a grand exodus of this caravan, as well as a police academy training session in its place, filled with interesting and unusual exercises that made for an entertaining breakfast.

We wanted to go see Poncho Villa’s bullet-riddled Dodge, but we felt the need to get out of Dodge. So we drove down to Cuatemoc, which is a small town famous for its Mennonite settlements that are numbered, not named (e.g., Campo 22, Campo 2B, etc.). This wasn’t especially appealing to us, but it was a midway point and the thought of some queso mennonito sounded kind of nice. We first went to a campground that was supposed to be kind of nice, with showers! which we really needed. But sure enough, when we pulled in, the same RV caravan had already staked the place out. So we did an about-face, and ended up parking outside a hotel, next to an apple orchard. The moon was full, which was reassuring to watch rising over the orchard. We heard there was a lunar eclipse, but we didn’t see it.


The next day we headed to Cascada Basaseachi, the tallest waterfall in Mexico. We camped at a nice ranch, finally had hot showers, and enjoyed hanging out with the manager, Renaldo, and his dog, Max. Renaldo brought us some Ocote pine to burn. It’s quite fragrant, and lights as soon as a flame touches it, making for great fire starter. We were not expecting the Chihuahuan desert to be as dry and dusty as it has been. It hadn’t rained in months, apparently, and all the vegetation was trying to bloom, but begging for a little water. The lack of rain also meant that any and all waterfalls looked more like leaky faucets, and this was precisely the case with the falls at Basaseachi (though the canyon was striking). The quietude and isolation of this area was a pleasant change.


From Basaseachi, we began our way to Las Barrancas del Cobre (Copper Canyon) via a route that is not so typical. To make a long story short, we spent the next four hours driving over one of the bumpiest and dustiest mountain roads we’ve ever seen. Althea was in the middle of a record-setting 6 hour marathon of nonstop talking and singing (we let her eat some chocolate the night before). Add in the flatulence of a campesino we picked up part of the way, and the experience was truly purgatorial. Once we reached pavement, we spent the next 3 hours at a carwash trying to at least control the damage the dust had done to our van, both inside and out. There was nearly a ¼ inch of dust on every surface and in every crevice. Our air filter was clogged and our engine caked. We hobbled through the town of Creel and made our way to Lago Arareko, where the Tarahumara Indians have an ejido that is nearly 200 sq. kilometers. We ended up spending two nights there, hiking, enjoying the lake, and bouldering. Althea has become quite the boulderer. She’s constantly scouring rocks for good foot and handholds.


When we decided to leave the lake, the engine was idling very high, so we went to a gas station to clean it. Our air filter is one of the K&N types that has to be cleaned specially with their cleaner, allowed to dry thoroughly, and then oiled before using again. So I’m in the middle of this process, at the drying stage, and sure enough, the grey clouds overhead begin to sprinkle. Then the sprinkle turned to rain, and the rain to an outright downpour. Along with the entire region, we had been hoping for this rain to relieve the unbelievable dryness. But the timing couldn’t have been worse for us. With the air filter off, we couldn’t drive the van anywhere, and needless to say, the air was no longer conducive to the drying of a wet cotton filter. And so began our first 24 hour stint trapped in our beloved van stranded in the back of a rather dirty Pemex (they were kind enough to let us use their bathrooms for free, though they looked more like crime scenes). Before we left Virginia, Courtney and Althea used to say, “I’m going to miss (fill in the blank), but I’m not going to miss this cold.” We have long looked forward to a warmer climate, and now we were stuck with the temp steadily dropping and the rain turning to sleet. Our batteries were pretty low from the fridge accidentally being set too high the nights before, so we didn’t have enough power to run the little space heater donated to us by Courtney’s brother, so we huddled under our comforter and played go fish and old maid until nightfall.

Yesterday, upon waking to a sky that was beginning to clear, we decided to find a hotel for the next night. It felt good to have weathered the storm and suffered through it in our combi/casa, and this somehow justified the expense for the hotel. I found a quaint little place off the main strip in Creel with clean cabanas, hot water, and woodstoves. We put the air filter back on, and parked right in front of our room. We had a pleasant comida yesterday, and enjoyed drinks and dominoes last night in a local tavern nearby. Luli, the duena where we are staying, often walks in unannounced to make sure our fire is still going. This morning she brought us cappuccinos in bed, and took Althea off to play with her grandchildren. Today is Dia de Benito Juarez, so the kids all have off from school. We’re not too sure what we’re doing tomorrow, or even today, but we’ll let you know how it turns out.