We leave Batopilas in the afternoon on New Year's Day with the band still playing and drunks strewn about on the pavement. Even here we can hear the tuba beat.
This time we stay high on the mountain ridges for several days where the nights are cold.
On the third evening we come across a hidden valley, hanging in the mountains below our camp site.
We follow a rocky trail which has existed, no doubt, for hundreds of years.
On top of a ridge, the road that we will leave Urique on with the bikes suddenly appears before us. That's one hard ascent we have in store for us!
The trail leads over rocky slabs on top of the world...
...worn down by countless footsteps...
... before descending on the other side where the trail suddenly becomes more exposed. No place for a careless footstep here...
... but Jeff drops his camera and has to find a way to negotiate the terrain to rescue it. A tricky maneuver in Crocs, his footwear of choice.
The camera rescue is quickly followed by a difficult section where the path has been obliterated by a landslide. It is far worse than it looks in this photo, with a precipitous drop below...
... but the going gets easier and we stop for lunch among the oak trees on the mountain tops.
We pass all but abandoned farms high up in remote valleys...
...and, as we descend, other plots with well tended green cash crops. The drug trade is the basis of the local economy.
Finally we reach the bottom, where we cross a rickety suspension bridge over Urique River and walk back along the bottom of the canyon to return to Keith's magic garden.
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Oh, I’m glad you survived that hike, Anna! I know the slopes never look so bad on pictures, as they really are, so I can imagine you had some dreadful moments.
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