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Text and Images: Andrew Moore
Tubares Mission, Rio Fuerte
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Founded in 1708, Batopilas is the equivalent of a Southwest Colorado mining town, with silver being its major export for the majority of its existence. While many of the mines have closed, the local economy appears strong, if limited, as an out of the way tourist destination. One main cobblestone road follows the Rio Batopilas to the East, and the cactus covered canyon side to the West. Businesses and homes share same canyon, tiered above one another, sometimes precariously.
We have arrived early enough to get a good view of the town as we bump along the street, dodging topes and potholes, some of which could swallow the front wheel of a GS easily. Something we weren’t expecting was local kids running out to greet us, holding out their hands for a "high five". Unfortunately, many of the kids didn’t quite realize that a motorcyclist’s right hand is on the throttle; making some maneuvers akin to handlebar acrobatics. Some of the kiddos apparently hadn’t mastered the theory of the high five, actively grabbing an outstretched hand instead of slapping it....
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Batopilas Square |
Batopilas Performance |
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| As with many towns in Mexico, a central square provides an area for the social scene, so we wander down the one main drag until we find it, and pull over in search of a hotel. The first place we walk into tells us that they are full, and we’re about to leave when a voice from inside yells out Parke’s name. As it turns out, a Western Spirit mountain bike tour group has gotten to the hotel first, booking it solid; but, the guides Rachel and Scott happen to be a couple who ran the Colorado River through the Grand Canyon with Parke! We quickly determine that Flagstaff indeed is the center of the universe, as to be this far from home, in the middle of Mexico, and to run into more Flagstaffians is too much to be coincidence! |
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After catching up for a few minutes, Scott works his magic on our behalf and the owner of the hotel directs us across the street to another set of rooms that they use, separate from the main hotel, which he says includes safe parking for the bikes. Parke goes to check out the secondary arrangements, and returns with a smile on his face. We roll the bikes into the courtyard and unload equipment. It turns out that the "secondary" digs include the home of the owner’s mother, and are nothing short of beautiful. Twenty five dollars per night for each room provides each of us with one of the nicest and cleanest places I’ve ever stayed in, stateside or in Mexico. We have the run of an open air upstairs patio overlooking the central square, purple and pink bougainvilleas filling the air with a sweet, fresh odor.
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Scott wanders up to our rooms with some cold tecates and invites us to join them for dinner that evening, which we gratefully accept. Batopilas, we find, is essentially a "dry" community, meaning that no package beer or liquor is sold in the local markets, and can only be purchased in bars or restaurants. That night we have a wonderful dinner of kebabs and enchiladas, washed down with more cold tecates and some locally made tequila.
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The Lost Cathedral
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We had originally planned to leave the next morning, but Batopilas is too nice to leave, so we take the opportunity to go over the bikes and fix some minor issues, such as Tony’s slow leaking puncture and Mel’s wind deflector, as well as explore the local shops. That afternoon, we bounce down the canyon to the Satevo Mission, our now only 500 pound unloaded bikes feeling like 2 stroke enduros. At close to 500 years old, the mission rises out of the canyon, its white paint, classical architecture, and cool interior quite fascinating. I’m consistently amazed at the ability of these to be built at the most inaccessible locations.
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Mission Road |
Satevo Mission |
Tire Repair |
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We had early on heard a rumor of a back road out of Batopilas to the South. None of the maps we carried showed such a route, and we had been advised that the road back to Urique was close to impassable on a large GS; more people we spoke with, (including locals), denied the route even existed. Now this really peaks our interest, sounding exactly like the type of road, or lack thereof, that we’re looking for!
During our wanderings around town, we happen to meet up with Ken and Pat, with whom we had ridden to the Aconchi hot springs. They had visited a guide in Creel, and had procured a rough map showing some trails to Urique and Choix, Urique being Northwest of Batopilas, and Choix being to the Southwest. With a copy of this map in hand, Mel and I went to see the local Batopilas guide, Sr. Gill. It took all of my attention to go over the directions and hints from Sr. Gill in Spanish...up and over the red mountain, over the white mountain, stay to the right; how many river crossings? If my translation is wrong we could be out there for a long, long time!
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Urique Water Crossing |
The route is about 100 miles of dirt to Choix, with no Pemex stations, which gives us plenty of gas with our two and a half gallons of reserve we carry between us. We grab some food and plenty of water for the next morning’s departure and prepare ourselves for the unknown.
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We get an early start the next morning, and begin to climb out of Batopilas. In the first fifteen minutes, the rutted road gained 1500 vertical feet. Varying from dirt to deep silt and rocks, the tight switchbacks were a handful to climb on the loaded bikes. Mel, who stopped to help Tony right his bike after a drop in the middle of a rocky, steep and silty section, finds that his bike will not start. A bump start after man handling the bike downhill gets us to the top of the first ridge. The low speed lugging is taking its toll on the airhead electrical systems, which are built for higher speed highway runs for proper charging. We remove all non-essential lights from Mel’s bike, lessening the current draw, and drop down into the next canyon.
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The road continues to be challenging on the loaded bikes, but not frustrating. Gravel, rocks, silt and switchbacks are enough to keep you on your toes, and I’m up on the footpegs almost the entire time. We pass through the very small town of Rodeo on our way to Tepache, and after a few miles, come to our major river crossing, the Rio Urique.
Depending upon rain and snow up high, the Rio Urique can become impassible very quickly. We’re lucky, as the river is only about 3 feet deep in some holes at the crossing, with a decent route across at calf to knee deep. This should allow us to get the bikes across with just the cylinders being dunked. The problematic thing about river crossings like this is the bed, which consists of golf ball to basketball sized slippery river rock, which can stop a bike in its tracks, or bounce the front end around, resulting in at the very least a misdirection, at worst a fall in the middle of the river, potentially seizing the engine with water.
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Andrew on the Urique Crossing |
After walking the crossing, Tony is the first one to give it a go. About halfway across, a large rock bounces his front end downstream, and he goes over. Mel runs out through the water to help him right his bike, and after a short cooling off period (for Tony...), he restarts the GS and continues to the other side. Parke, Mel and I are luckier with our rock dodging, and make it across unscathed and relatively dry. A few miles later, with me in the lead, I hit the deepest silt yet, and the heavy GS almost immediately buries itself to the cylinders; sliding to an abrupt stop. At about 20 miles an hour, I become a victim of physics, inertia carrying me over the handlebars, doing a full flip and landing on my back in a cloud of silt and white dust. Unhurt, and thankful for armored riding gear, I stand up and shake myself off. I picture the French judge holding at least an 8.0 up for the acrobatic dismount....
| We finally arrive at the town of Tubares, covered in mud and silt. At the local mercado, we celebrate the past 40 miles of rough dirt with orange sodas and vanilla wafers. The remaining 60 miles of dirt will be on a newly graded gravel mining road, which, for me at least, turns out to be more difficult than the rocks and silt we’ve passed through, as the road consisted of just about every loose surface in existence, and while my slow speed riding is decent, my inexperience on high speed gravel slows me down. We ascend and descend canyon after canyon, and I loose count after the first six. Arriving outside of Choix, we again hit pavement, which is a welcome sight. It’s taken us almost ten hours to travel 100 miles. |
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We end the long day trying to make time to Los Mochis on the coast; once again forcing us to ride at night, but this time dodging pedestrians, busses and the occasional livestock. The first dive motel becomes our destination.
From Los Mochis, we’re on toll roads up the West coast, making time for the border with a short stop in Kino Bay, where a condo owned by Mel offers some beach relaxation. Twelve days and a couple thousand miles after leaving home, we are back on Arizona interstate, buzzing home. Once again Mexico has shown itself to be a country full of adventure, wonderful, giving people and beautiful vistas, especially from the saddle of an eighteen year old BMW GS motorcycle!
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For more information on this route, feel free to visit the Expedition Portal Forums for route information and feedback.
This route was also traveled by portal member Scott Brady from Expeditions West. TRIP REPORT HERE |
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