Its been a while since our last 'group update' and I guess for some people this will be your first update as you were foolish enough to give us your email address when we bumped into each other on the road somewhere! It seems that everywhere we go we keep meeting people, having a few beers or a meal together or on occasions spending several days together. This trip of ours is turning out to be quite a social epic and is all the richer for it. Some of the more unusual people we've met on the road have been a Welsh clown making balloon animals in a church at the bottom of the Copper Canyon and a heavily tattooed German (the tattoo on the side of his neck said Claudia but his wife's name was Carol!) who moved from the USA into Mexico having been arrested (no truth to it) on charges of terrorism by the FBI and is now the Secretary for Tourism in a small province of Chihuahua - apparently!The last time we sent an update was while we were in Baja. Baja being pretty much desert and more desert we finally decided we should move on and find some water. As such we caught the over-night ferry from Santa Rosalia to Guaymas on the mainland and headed for the Copper Canyon in the North-west. The ride to the canyon area took us from sub-tropical sea level to the top of alpine mountains and winding forest roads for 300 miles or so. We found riding through a pine and oak forest that equals the equivalent of riding across England and Wales together quite impressive, not to mention gaining 7640 feet in altitude along the way. By the time we reached Creel, the tourist centre of the Copper Canyon area, both Liz and I were getting out of breath just walking on the flat due to the thinner air. Neither of us realised that Mexico was so beautiful, you tend to think of Westerns and Bonny and Clyde, not massive mountain ranges and stunning gorges. It is still a very dry area which we are in although whilst we were in Creel we experienced an impressive thunder storm and heavy rain which lasted most of 2 days.

The Grand Canyon in the USA is 1838 metres deep - the Copper Canyon is 1870 metres deep (and the Rio Colca Canyon in Peru is 3625 deep). Either way its a very long way down into the Copper Canyon. Wanting a little adventure (and having to do it just because we could) we took a dirt road all the way to the the bottom of the canyon.

Some may say that riding a motorcycle loaded with everything we have, and with two people on it down a very steep, rocky and loose single track road with drop offs of several hundred feet and no guard rail would get the blood pumping. Well, yes it did surprisingly enough. (that was English sarcasm for the benefit of our international friends). Anyway, we made it to the bottom without mishap. (I'll come on to the ride out in a moment!) The views along the way were out of this world. I can remember coming round a bend at the very top of the canyon and seeing the road just drop away for a vertical mile as it hugged the side of the canyon. Views like that make you first say " Wow"; secondly you say " we've got to ride down that"; and third you just laugh hysterically. Well we did anyway. It took us 3 or 4 hours to ride down to the bottom of the canyon and we were shattered by the time we got there.

There is an old mining settlement called La Bufa beside the Rio Batopilas where we stayed the night with Fritz the German guy and his wife, they run a small guest house with the best views of the canyon you have ever seen. The mine closed around 50 years ago but a few people still live there having a quiet but hard life amongst the Tarahumara Indians. The Tarahumara Indians live throughout the region and are considered to be the most 'true to traditional life' in the Northern Americas. Many have migrated into the towns but thousands still live a very very traditional life in and around the canyons and high Sierra's. They are very shy but are also inquisitive. They don't speak Spanish (which is OK 'cos neither do we!) and live off the land or by trading. Tarahumara mothers still tell their children stories about the Conquistadors coming to get them if they don't behave and to keep them away from the towns. We spent the morning at the bottom of the canyon meeting several who had come to see who we were. In reality we spent the morning looking at each other bemused and occasionally smiling and nodding but without talking. After a while the Indians just got up and left. We rode on to Batopilas which is the town at the end of the main dirt road and 15 miles or so from La Bufa. Its known for being an ex-mining town, its cathedral, the opium grown in the area and the Mafiosa gangs who do the growing. The town is actually very friendly. The Mafioso know who's who, the police know who the Mafioso people are and the visitors to the area (us) know to keep their heads down and shut up. As such everybody gets along. We stayed a couple of days in the town just seeing what made it tick (drugs obviously and tourism sort of ) and learnt a thing or two but never felt threatened. If its good enough for a Welsh clown and a resident French guy with lock-jaw (literally) its good enough for us.

We were going to ride further into the canyons but a) the track was too much for our bike with all our gear and b) there were bandits in the area (as opposed to the Mafioso) so we turned around and rode back the way we had come in. We knew what to expect on the ride so took it easy and plodded along before the big climb up the canyon wall. All was going well until we met a pick-up coming round a blind bend sideways (i.e. very fast). All we could do was swerve out of the way as fast as we could. The good news is he missed us. The bad news is we hit the canyon wall and came off. Our first accident of the trip! Again, the good news - we were both fine. The bad news - the bike had a caved in pannier and a broken indicator. The driver stopped (which surprised us) so we put on a show of 'not being the victim and taking control of the situation'. We weren't sure if this guy was Mafioso, bandit, or just another crap driver! We had been advised to go on the offensive in these situations until we know the score so Liz got out the camera and took his photo while I threw down my gloves and walked into his face. (If he was Mafioso or bandit we were buggered anyway so there was nothing to loose.) Lucky for us he was just a crap driver so first I made him help us pick up the bike and wheel back it into the road. Second we demanded $400 to pay for the damage. Given our Spanish is less than great he didn't understand what I was saying so I employed the universal sign language of rubbing thumb and forefinger together and writing 400 in the dust on his pick-up. Now that things were clear we banded about various numbers until we agreed on a figure. That figure turned out to be all the money he had on him including his spare change. Every single paso! He was driving a brand new pick-up and was in smart dress so I figured he could afford it. The actual sum was about £11.00. By the time he left us he was more upset than we were so all was OK. We picked up the broken bits of the bike and promptly rode up the side of the canyon while trying not to think too hard about the close shave we'd had. The ride up the canyon was still fantastic so it didn't spoil things for us. It just meant I spent the rest of the next day gluing the indicator back together and hammering the pannier back into shape (sort-of).

To cut a long story short, since then which is a week or two ago, we've been trying to organize a new rear tyre as the one on the bike is REALLY bald now, Liz was ill (we just won't go into detail there, nothing serious just unpleasant) and I have had an eye infection. All told, we haven't done a great deal since being in the Copper Canyon but today a general surgeon in Chihuahua has brought us together with our new tyre so were back on the road. (Thanks Arturo)