No one could really tell us what time the train was supposed to arrive. We heard everything from 7am to 9am. Some said first and second classes were different trains arriving at different times; others said that they were different cars on the same train. So we arrived at the station at about 730 hoping we would be in time to meet the train.

We were; the first class train arrived at about 820. We were originally thinking we’d save some money and take second class, but that train was due to arrive an hour later and we didn’t want to wait any longer.

Train!! Not a steam train, but diesel will do.

Quinn was thrilled with the train ride. It was 8 hours, and he pretty much enjoyed the whole thing.

The rail route from Los Mochis (passing through El Fuerte) runs all the way to Chihuahua, covering 656km of track. It has 37 bridges, 86 tunnels, and took 60 years to complete, opening in 1961. It starts at sea level and ends up at over 2400 meters in elevation.

The scenery during the train ride was truly awesome, as were some of the engineering feats required to traverse the rugged terrain. We arrived in the town of Creel at about 330pm and checked into a hotel.

The tracks climb to the top of the waterfall in this photo by looping back on themselves three times, including a 180 degree loop inside a tunnel.

The church in Creel

The next day Witt rented a mountain bike to explore the surrounding area. A four-hour bike rental was only $10 for a well-maintained hard-tail 29er (plus helmet, tool kit and spare tubes). The area didn’t offer exceptional singletrack, but it was a fun way to get some exercise and explore the local sights. We made plans to all meet up at a nearby lake. Jen and Quinn took a taxi and a picnic lunch out to the lake and Witt was there too, but we never saw each other. We figure that we were on either sides of a hill but didn’t know that there was another side to explore. Fortunately we all had a great time.

The area is home to the Tarahumara, the local indigenous population. This was the first time that we have encountered extreme poverty on this trip, with small children employed selling trinkets to tourists. As it turns out, most of the tourists in the area are Mexican, and it was somewhat of a relief to know that us gringos weren’t the only visitors to sell stuff to. Jen bought a little wooden train from them for Quinn that turned out to be a big hit.

Although the Copper canyon is “bigger” than the Grand Canyon in some respects, it’s not as spectacular to look down on as its cousin in Arizona. On the return trip, the train stopped briefly in the town of Divisadero, where it is possible to look out across a portion of the network of canyons. While there we sampled some excellent gorditas on offer from the local vendors.

Vendors in Divisadero

Mmmm Gorditas!

As we experienced in Africa and other places, there’s always the thought of “What did we do to deserve the life we have while these people live this difficult and austere existence?” This was truly brought home as we saw a young boy about Quinn’s age, his neck draped with the textiles he was selling, watching Quinn playing on the ground with his new toy train. The contrast between the outlook for Quinn’s future and that of this small boy was both sharp and painful to contemplate.