| BMW ROK Feature Story |
A Mexican Motorcycle Adventure: By Darcey Copenhaver
Mike and Darcey Copenhaver This journey began back in summer of 2006 when Mike and I met Roger Coffey at a BMW ROK camp out. During our brief conversation with Roger, he mentioned that he and some friends were thinking of a trip to Mexico that fall. As it turned out, just a few months later the rest of the group had bailed out on the trip for various reasons. Roger, who’d recently moved to New Mexico, still wanted to ride, and Mike and I had our hearts set on the trip. So it was settled, the three of us, mere acquaintances at that point, would attend the Horizon’s Unlimited meeting at the Copper Canyon of Mexico in the beginning of October. A few emails and phones calls later, we were on our way! The plan was for Mike to ride his R1200 GS from Dandridge to El Paso, hopefully earning his Iron Butt hours along the way. I would fly out to El Paso, and meet Mike and Roger at the airport and from there we’d head straight to the border. The trip went as follows: Friday, October 6th:- Mike is off to Texas at 8:00 am. He had good luck with the weather and made great time. He logged 1200 miles that day, and was half way through Texas late that evening. Saturday, October 7th – Mike rode across Texas, to El Paso. He arrived in the evening, checked into a hotel and headed out in search of some authentic Mexican food. Mission accomplished… he had a great meal and went to bed early. He was surprised by how few people spoke English in El Paso. Sunday, October 8th - My day began at 3:00 a.m. I had to leave by 4:00 for a 6:00 am flight. Miraculously I made my flight on time – no problems. I thought they might question me at the airport… gone for a week, but not a speck of luggage – not even a purse? Oh well, I guess I didn’t look much like a terrorist, even at that hour of the day. Like clockwork, I step off the plane in El Paso at 8:40 a.m. I call Mike, “yup, I’m at the airport, and I just saw Roger pull up on his bike,” he says. Five minutes later the three of us were headed to the border… it couldn’t have gone any smoother. Roger lead us out of El Paso, and into New Mexico via a road literally sitting on the US / Mexico border. To entertain ourselves we searched for illegal immigrants along the way, hoping to see some action. We crossed into Mexico at Columbus, a small border town, mid-way cross New Mexico. The border crossing was pretty uneventful…. just the usual lack of understanding due to language barriers… Luckily Roger had crossed there before, so he knew the drill. From Columbus, we headed south on a two lane. Our fist stop was for 17 year olds touting automatic weapons at a border patrol road block. After that it was blue skies and open road ahead. The day’s ride included a few small towns and desert plains. We were a little surprised by the attention we got, as we rode through towns. Apparently, bikes are not common in northern Mexico, we did not pass a single bike that day.
Typical northern Mexico high plains landscape Our first night was spent in Nuevo Casas Grandes; the largest town we’d seen all day, with a couple of hotels for us to choose from. That evening, after checking into our hotel, we wandered into a nameless back alley cantina (much to my dismay), and hung out in a bar full of local cowboys, drunks, a prostitute, an obnoxious American, and a native Tarahumara Indian who repeatedly shook our hands, ordered us rounds of beer (all of which we ended up paying for) and shouted “Take it easy man,” which apparently was his only English. Mike especially enjoyed his visit to the men’s room (actually it was the only facility, but I wouldn't have set foot in there if you paid me). He claims it was identical to the infamous bathroom in the movie “Train Spotting” (use your imagination here)… hmm… what a shame I didn't check that out for myself. It was quite the evening, to say the least, and an interesting way to begin the trip! Monday, October 9th - This was our first full day in Mexico and the day we’d ride into Creel, where we’d stay the rest of the week. We had a full day of riding ahead of us. As we were loading up to go, a local business traveler suggested a more direct route to Creel, one so new, it was not yet on the map. This turned out to be a great route, on a smooth road through high desert plateaus. We made great time that day, though we occasionally stopped to double check the route, and routinely got lost in just about every town. Every town had signs leading into town, to their square, but once you get there you were apparently on your own. They did not provide signs on how to get back out! It was a good thing Roger spoke a little Spanish, and we had GPS!
Mexican speed bumps “topes”
We kept smelling something sweet
The beginning of a fantastic ride on the new road that had been recommended to us by a local
Mike and Roger, double checking the route. I call this photo “the money shot" - perfect for a BMW brochure!
Roger pops a quick wheelie for the camera.
Wild horses couldn’t drag We arrived in Creel just before dusk, and found a nice new hotel with large, clean rooms and 24 hour security for $30 a night! Our lucky find, was obviously the best location in town, because the next evening, it was full of all the Mexican riders attending the meeting. They obviously knew where to stay.
Arriving in Creel, we stopped at the meeting location
The scarlet sunset on our first night in Creel.
Images of Creel-Above Left: Daytime downtown Creel Center: Roger Dabbs riding against “traffic.” Right: Downtown Creel in the evening. Tuesday, October 10th - Waking up, we knew today’s ride would be the highlight of the trip. This was the adventure we’d been dreaming about (in my case having night terrors about). This was the day we were to ride down into the Copper Canyon to Batopilas. Batopilas is an old silver mining town isolated from the rest of the world by sheer rugged canyon. This ride would include 40 miles of one lane rough dirt road on steep mountain cliffs, and a decent of approximately 8,000 feet. For me, this was a day to face my fears…. I’m ridiculously afraid of heights. For Mike, this was a day to test his riding abilities. Riding 2-up down into the canyon was not commonly done, but Roger, who’d done this before, assured us that we could do it, no problem. After meeting for breakfast with Roger’s friends Roger Dabbs and Gary DuBois, self-proclaimed “Dixie Outlaws” and crazy ex-military pilots, the five of us were on our way!
Gary DuBois enjoying a perfect morning to ride.
The beginning of the journey was on smooth, twisty paved road that ran up and down mountain ridges and through deep valleys. That morning the road was clear, the air was cold and thick fog over-filled the valleys.
Our first break of the day at a high mountain overlook. After riding for an hour or so, we turned off of the paved road, let some air out of the tires, and began our 40 mile journey on dirt. The first section of road was primarily wooded pine forests with clearings for the homesteads of the elusive Tarahumara Indians. The beginning of the dirt road was a little rough, and rocky, but I was happy that there were no cliffs thus far. Just when I was thinking this wasn’t so bad, the forests ended, and the cliffs began. The road suddenly became quite narrow. It was literally carved out of the side of the mountain onto tiny ledges, just wide enough for a large vehicle to navigate. It sure made me appreciate being on a bike!
Tarahumara Indians herding some pigs along the roadside.
The beginning of our journey on dirt.
Looking through to the canyon ahead
A peek at the river bottom below.
You never knew what was around the corner! Luckily, most the time is was just a donkey seeking shade.
Does this bike make my butt look big? After about 45 minutes of riding on dirt, we stopped to remove some layers of clothes, and stretch. We were shocked to see a local bus drive by, also heading down the canyon. The driver grinned ear to ear and honked the horn as he passed. Once we started out again, it didn’t take long to catch back up with this large, slow moving vehicle. We watched it tip back and forth as it creaked and crawled it’s way around blind corners, just barely wide enough for the bus to navigate. Though we were enthralled by watching the commuter bus navigate this treacherous road, I couldn't help but stress over the thought of trying to pass it on this one lane, 2000 ft high shelf! To my relief, the driver soon pulled over to let his passengers off for a stretch. All I noticed as we passed, was a huge bus teetering inches from disaster, as people got off smiling. Wow… they were brave! After the bus drama subsided, we could finally see the unbelievable views from atop of this route. I’d never witnessed such lush, rugged, deep canyon views in my life. It was much more dramatic than what I’d seen at the Grand Canyon. To me, it resembled the images I’d seen on television from Machu Pichu in Peru. I definitely felt like I was in another world at this point of the journey. A world I was thrilled to be a part of!
The local commuter bus. The trip takes at least
I was the unofficial trip photographer.
Above: Roger pointing us in the right direction.
We will soon be crossing that river -
Our route to the bottom and the river
Mike and I as we crossed the bridge
Eventually, the high cliff’s route lead to a tight serpentine road, which quickly wound us down the mountain. At that point, we crossed the river; our half way point. We still had 20 grueling miles of dirt to reach Batopilas. I was happily thinking the cliffs were over, but to my horror, we were heading right back up in elevation again. We weren’t as high (only 1,500 feet), but we lost the vegetation and gained a more desert terrain of scrub bush and cactus. To me, this meant sheer cliff ledges and terror. All I could see ahead was blue sky, as the road disappeared around every blind curve that we encountered. …. Yikes! As we rode closer and closer to Batopilas, the terrain began to change once more. We were now entering a tropical climate, with thick blooming bushes and higher temperatures. Batopilas is typically 20 – 30 degrees warmer than Creel, and stays tropical year around, though winter can bring snow around the rest of the region. About 5 hours into the trip (just outside of Batopilas), we hear “beep, beep” and a GS with a large man riding effortlessly flies past us and disappears around the next bend in a cloud of dust. “What the heck” we said, “that guy must really know these roads.” A little bit later, as we finally peel ourselves off the bike at the town square in Batopilas, a thick man comes running up to Mike with his hand extended. “I have to shake your hand. You are either really stupid or a really great rider. There’s no way I’d ride my wife down this canyon on the back of my bike. She comes down by truck” says the boisterous stranger, who had dusted us on the trail only minutes earlier. Mike was surprised by this back-handed compliment, but hey, we made it… and it was because Mike is a really good rider! That guy would have really been impressed had he known we would be turning around and riding back out again within the hour with the other guys in our group! Most riders typically spent the night, in town before heading back up. We chose not to, since our time in Mexico was limited.
The school children in Batopilas all ran out in
After a VERY short rest in Batopilas, it was time
to
fuel
up
The ride out was challenging in a different way. For one, we really didn’t get much time to recuperate. We attempted to get lunch, but soon realized it was already 2:00, so lunch would take too much time. We drank some fluids, ate a quick snack, and headed back up the canyon. The second issue on the way out was traffic. Apparently it was rush hour in Batopilas! On the way out we passed motorcyclists coming down the canyon, drug runners heading into town, a large semi-type truck on its way out, and even bicyclists at the top of the canyon, many of which were not in the right shape for that terrain! The town is notorious for its marijuana crops, and armed “cowboys” who ride the canyon in large pick up trucks with tinted windows. These guys were ruthless in that they did not budge, slow down, or share the road. You were generally forced into the ditch and loose sand against the cliff wall, as they passed. I was just happy, we were now in the inside lane! In spite of a little fatigue, and minor traffic issues, we made it back to Creel in only 4 hours! Round trip, this was 9 hours of riding. Needless to say, the first stop once we were back in Creel was the local bar for a round of cervesas… we earned it!
3 hours later—we’re back on pavement!
Time to fill the tires with air again.
How come Roger doesn’t look tired?
One grubby couple… and one relieved wife. I’d never
Don’t even think about it, Mr. Horse.
Time for a quick photo op on the way back.
This is one dusty, dirty, tired crew, but we sure had a great ride to Batopilas and back! Photo right to left: Mike Copenhaver, Darcey Copenhaver (me), Roger Coffey, Gary DuBois and Roger Dabbs Wednesday, the 11th through Friday, the 13th of October: The day’s ride to Batopilas was the absolute highlight of our trip. After that day, everything else seemed very laid back and relaxing. The remainder of the week, was spent in Creel, taking in short rides and the local culture. In addition, famed riding coach “Coach Ramey” was in town, giving free riding classes, all of which, we happily attended.
While in class, “Coach Ramey” chose Roger to model the proper
Of course my riding buddies were the best riders in the class.
Check out the panniers on that bad boy!
Diversadero photo ops! When in Rome...
Photos of the views at Divisadero, a popular hotel location and rail tour stop. Though the scenery was amazing, this canyon overlook was the only touristy part of our trip. There were dozens of Arizona retirees on a train tour of the Copper Canyon.
Photos above: This group of school children came out to see Mike, while we rode along a desolate two-track through the woods. He was shocked to see a school, and more shocked when all the boys ran out to see the bike.
Our last night with Roger before we split up and he heads to Baja on his was back to New Mexico. We really enjoyed his company.
There’s nothing like sitting at the bar, and “playing fetch” at the same time! Friday, October 13th — Eventually the time had arrived. Time to leave Creel and Mexico behind. We had enjoyed an amazing week full of great people and scenery, but as they say, “all good things must come to an end.” As we awoke that morning, we had mixed feelings about leaving. We hated to go, but were excited about the ride ahead that day. I had a returning flight out of El Paso booked, but decided to ride back with Mike instead. This would save him hundreds of miles, and give me a chance to continue on the adventure for a few more days. Thus we ditched our original route, and chose to ride northeast into the city of Chihuahua, and across the desert to the Presidio, Texas border crossing. This would bring us within 60 miles of Big Bend National Park in Texas. As we jumped on the bike and rode off that clear and frosty morning, we received cheers and goodbye waves from the Mexican riders at our hotel. Though we didn’t speak the same language, and came from different cultures, we held that common bond that all riders understand. The final day’s ride was the most relaxing ride we’d had all week. We both felt the need to just soak it all in. As we headed north and then east towards Chihuahua City, the terrain began to change back from high mountain alpines to fertile high plains. We passed dozens of commercial apple orchards along the route to Chihuahua. After eventually finding our way through Chihuahua, a surprisingly bustling city, we were headed to the desert.
Blue sky, long road and a lot of desert ahead.
Just where might there be swimming around here?
We reached the border that afternoon. Much to our surprise, Gary and Roger, the two ex-pilots, whom we’d rode with in Creel, showed up in Presidio just behind us. We were happy to see them again, and decided we should ride through Big Bend together. We crossed the border without any incident, stopped for burgers and fries at the first non-Mexican eating establishment we found, and then we were off to Big Bend! After a late afternoon ride with Gary and Roger, though Big Bend State Park, we discovered there was a biker rally in the proximity, so unfortunately we had to split off with our new friends and head 10 miles in the other direction to find available lodging. As we checked into our room, a 6’ 5”, 350 lb, long hair, bearded, Hells Angel looking guy abruptly came over to inspect the GS. For a minute there, I thought Mike was in trouble, this guy could snap him like a twig, but as it turned out “Tiny” was quite impressed by the GS. On later conversation with “Tiny” and his buddy “Moose”, we discovered that he rode a purple Honda Gold Wing, and was often asked who he’d stole that bike from. As they say, “It just goes to show, you can never judge a book by it’s cover”! Saturday, the 14th — Monday, the 16th of October: Well this part of the story get’s easy. It just so happened that the night before it seemed very, very windy as we rode to our hotel, outside of Big Bend National Park. As I bummed some cold beverages off of our new friend “Tiny” I asked him “is it always this windy here?” He replied, “I hear there’s some sort of weather front coming in.” THAT was an understatement. Tiny was right, there was a front coming in, and this storm front was kind enough to cross the country right along with us. Thus, we rode in high winds, heavy rain and cold weather all the way from Western Texas on Saturday morning until we arrived in Dandridge, TN, on Monday evening. Much to our frustration, it never let up. Though the final days of our trip, we were in survival/try not to become hypothermic mode, the rest of the trip was an enlightening experience that we will never forget. Oh heck, even with the dismal ride home from Texas, we were STILL riding! So I guess I would say that all in all, the entire adventure was moy bueno and we look forward to another opportunity to again ride in Mexico.
This trip to Chihuahua comes highly recommended by our local Mexico travel expert “The Bit.”
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