My third day in Batopilas I went for a walk around town just to see what
was there. I gave a hello to a man sitting outside his store enjoying the
at work version of plaza life. He began talking away at me undeterred by my
lack of Spanish comprehension. Before long he was telling me about his days
as a miner and showing me some of the silver ore that he kept in a tin.
Now when a man shows you his treasure you need to know a little more about
him. So I introduced myself to Manuel Limones. I told him my name was
Pablo. I told everyone to call me Pablo because no one can say or remember
Warren. Manuel and I sat in his shop fow a few hours making the most of the
at work version of plaza life. Fortunately there were no customers to
disturb us. He sat patiently explaining things to me. I sat there
patiently listening until I understood or grew tired and then I just nodded
like I understood. After a couple hours of this confusing banter Manuel
must have decided he liked me. He went behind the counter and pulled out
what looked like a piece of white plastic. He sat the roll on the counter
placed a scale weight on one edge and rolled the sheet out flat. A few
swipes with a rag to remove the dust and I could see the lines of the holy
grail of topographical maps of this area. All beautifully preserved in a
layer of professional lamination. Indeed this was the kind of precoius
metal I was wanting to see. I had a couple of topo maps with me but nothing
that compared with the detail of his map. I leaned over the counter
savoring this map. I explained that I wanted to go to Urique, another town
on the Urique river. Manuel knew the route well. He explained the route to
me again and again until I understood. Follow the Rio Batopilas to the Rio
Cerro Colorado fork. Follow the Rio Cerro Colorado to Cerro Colorado. Turn
west at Cerro Colorado and follow the trail up the mesa to El Manzano which
sets on top of the mesa. From El Manzano go northwest down the mesa to
Urique at the bottom of the canyon. To ensure that I got it right he let me
borrow his map for a few days. I took the map back to Juanitas feeling like
I had really pulled something off. That night I went over Manuels map using
it to make notations on my own map. I made plans for the next day. I would
get up early and start my walk in the relative cool of morning.
I left Juanitas around 10 the next morning about the time when the last
traces of morning coolness have disappeared and the brutal heat of the
canyon starts coming on in force. I followed the Rio Batopilas to the Rio
Cerro Colorado fork. I then followed the Rio Cerro Colorado to Cerro
Colorado and I could see the road going up the mesa. A little explanation
here in Spanish cerro means hill. In the case of Cerro Colorado a hill that
is 7500 feet tall and rises 4500 feet from the Rio Batopilas. Never mind
that because the mesa I needed to climb was 7,800 feet high. Cerro Colorado
was just a landmark I needed to find the trail. Everything was there the
river fork, Cerro Colorado, and the trail going up the mesa to El Manzano.
So up I went. Wow it was really hot, hot, hot, hot, hot. I should have
started earlier. Up and up and up and this fat boy from the flat lands of
Kansas really began to feel the air thinning with the altitude. I stopped
for a break in the phenomenally hot shade of some desert bush. I was
nowhere near the crest of the mesa. My pants and shirt were soaked and the
sweat now fell in a constant drip from every point of my body. I could see
that I would be in immediate need of water once I reached El Manzano,
however far that was. More switchbacks and higher and higher. I came to a
house. Actually calling it a house would be generous. It was two tarps
streched over some limbs with a few people living under it and a Caterpiller
bulldozer parked near by. I wanted to ask for water but knowing the
difficulty of getting anything up here I only asked if this was the trail to
El Manzano. They said it was the trail along with a bunch of instructions I
didn't understand. Further up I came upon some men working on the road.
They werent just working on the road they were building it. This explained
the bulldozer. Blasting and bulldozing away mountainside until you could
drive a truck up it. From the point where I left the river to here it had
taken them two years. Two years of drilling holes in the rock, setting
charges, blasting, and bulldozing. When I arrived on the scene they were
getting ready to blast. The foreman pointed out the footpath I needed to
take to reach El Manzano. I followed it to a ridge overlooking the blast
area and took a break long enough to watch the blast.
I was left with only a mouthful of water in my bottle. My sweat no longer
tasted salty and I could feel the mental fog in my head caused by the
antitude and dehydration. By now the late afternoon clouds were building
rapidly shielding me from the sun. I could reach the crest of the mesa in
one hour. Once there the path would be relatively level and El Manzano and
water would not be far. So I continued up. The hour I expected took much
longer as I was forced to take frequent breaks to prevent my legs from
cramping due to dehydration. Nearing the crest I was searching the ground
for any place that might be holding water. It looked like it might rain and
I looked for a good spot to catch some runoff, but the rain didnt come. All
my thoughts, now slowed by the mental fog of dehydration, were of water. I
crested the mesa and I think the view was terrific. I barely took time
look. Moments later I passed a man walking down the mesa. I said hello and
tried to ask him where I could get some water, but after I said hello I
couldn't think of the words. Words I knew. We stood there looking at on
another. He realizing I had something more to say and me not able to find
the words in the mental fog of my mind. I finally said the one word I could
think of ..agua. My face must have said the rest because he understood what
I needed. He said his wife was up the trail and she would give me some
water. I managed to ask about El Manzano. He said it was four hours away.
Four more hours was too far, I had been walking for 9 already. I would
return to Batopilas. The trail to El Manzano would have many side trails
because it was now on top of the mesa. I was in no mood for getting lost.
I made my way to his house where I found his wife and daughter. She
answered the open door with a fearful look. I explained that I had spoken
with her husband on the trail and would like some water. She said nothing
as she took an enamled tin cup from the wall and dipped me a cup of water
from a large pottery jar. After handing it to me she put several steps of
security between herself and me. I still stood outside the threshold. I
summoned all my restraint to drink the water in a civilized manner. As I
drank the water I looked at her looking at me with scared eyes. Her
daughter peeked at me from around her mothers skirt. I felt bad for
creating such and imposition. Thirst overpowered courtiesness and I asked
for another cup of water. She repeated the same cautious steps dipping and
handing me another cup of water without taking her eyes from me. I drank it
down and wanted to drink the large pottery jar dry but I guessed at how
difficult it must be to get water up here. No doubt the water they had was
caught as rain runoff from the roof. To prevent myself from being a further
imposition I thanked her and left.
I continued down the mesa to Batopilas still incredibly thirsty. I stopped
occasionally to keep my legs from cramping. I stopped at the place with the
two tarps and had two more cups of water. I swallowed the last mouthful of
water in my bottle a half mile from Batopilas. Then I drank my fill when I
got into town. No El Manzano or Urique today, but I would have more days.
My search to find a circular route from Batopilas to Urique would keep me
busy during my time in Batopilas. The irony is that I would put all the
pieces together my last day in Batopilas and not have time to hike the
complete route. This fact didn't dissapoint me I just looked at it as a
good reason to return.
