Ultra-Maraton de los Canones," Guachochi
July 17 & 18, 2010
Details: Not for the faint-of heart, of course, this is an event well-worth
experiencing if not actually participating in yourself! Runners can participate in
shorter versions of this race on the same dates.
We strongly recommend taking at least two days once in Guachochi, and hiking
down into the canyons if you are quite fit - bring plenty of water!
This is a singularly beautiful area for hiking - there are crystal-clear mountain
streams to bathe in, soaring waterfalls, wide stands of forest as far as one can see,
and a majestic quiet that is very easy to get used to. Near the main lookout, one
can camp out and even build fires in the brick chimneys of several "ramadas" built
into the hillsides as well.
The town of Guachochi is very welcoming, and there are decent, reasonably
priced accommodations in town. Transportation is makeshift, but local buses serve
the area, and we suggest hiring a car through Chihuahua Tourism to make the
most of your time in this fabulous mountainous terrain. In short, we would like to
have spent much more time here!
Contact: Sonia Estrada, Secretaria Tecnica, Fideicomiso Ah! Chihuahua. All
information and resources available in English and Spanish.
sestrada@chihuahua.gob.mx, tel: (52) 614-429-3595,
State Tourism site: www.ah-chihuahua.com.mx
July 17 & 18, 2010
Details: Not for the faint-of heart, of course, this is an event well-worth
experiencing if not actually participating in yourself! Runners can participate in
shorter versions of this race on the same dates.
We strongly recommend taking at least two days once in Guachochi, and hiking
down into the canyons if you are quite fit - bring plenty of water!
This is a singularly beautiful area for hiking - there are crystal-clear mountain
streams to bathe in, soaring waterfalls, wide stands of forest as far as one can see,
and a majestic quiet that is very easy to get used to. Near the main lookout, one
can camp out and even build fires in the brick chimneys of several "ramadas" built
into the hillsides as well.
The town of Guachochi is very welcoming, and there are decent, reasonably
priced accommodations in town. Transportation is makeshift, but local buses serve
the area, and we suggest hiring a car through Chihuahua Tourism to make the
most of your time in this fabulous mountainous terrain. In short, we would like to
have spent much more time here!
Contact: Sonia Estrada, Secretaria Tecnica, Fideicomiso Ah! Chihuahua. All
information and resources available in English and Spanish.
sestrada@chihuahua.gob.mx, tel: (52) 614-429-3595,
State Tourism site: www.ah-chihuahua.com.mx
| Photo Galleries |
Ciudad Juarez, Chihuahua, July 5th, 2010. Mexico’s crucial front-line in a war against domestic
terrorism cheered today, not for the defeat of another greedy gang, but for a heartfelt victory of pride in
cultural tradition at a particularly poignant time in Mexican history. Armed with little more than positive
attitudes and leather “vaquero” clothing unchanged for centuries, over a hundred riders set off on
horseback from this teeming northern city on a mission of good will, intent on vanquishing long stretches
of the unforgiving desert with camaraderie, and an endurance beyond most imaginations.
terrorism cheered today, not for the defeat of another greedy gang, but for a heartfelt victory of pride in
cultural tradition at a particularly poignant time in Mexican history. Armed with little more than positive
attitudes and leather “vaquero” clothing unchanged for centuries, over a hundred riders set off on
horseback from this teeming northern city on a mission of good will, intent on vanquishing long stretches
of the unforgiving desert with camaraderie, and an endurance beyond most imaginations.
"Cabalgata Villista" July 5 to July 23, 2010
Details: Newcomers and experienced hands alike are welcome to join this
exciting cultural experience.
One of the best things is that riders can latch into any part of this trek - should you
only want to go along for a few days, or even just one afternoon, any combination
of camping / hotel stays can be made. A well-informed, English-speaking driver
with a car will be there to help you navigate the journey from point to point.
Some advance planning is recommended for the best of this adventure, but
Chihuahua Tourism is also a most thoughtful and flexible host, and side-trips and
last-minute inspirations are always handled with good humor.
Please note: this is by no means the only “cabalgata” in Mexico’s largest state –
another fine experience, for example, is to be had in October on the “Ruta de
Plata,” the Silver Route, near Batopilas, where tropical conditions at the bottom of
this Copper Canyon location compete with dramatic fall foliage at the top.
Contact: Sonia Estrada, Secretaria Tecnica, Fideicomiso Ah! Chihuahua. All
information available in English and Spanish.
sestrada@chihuahua.gob.mx, tel: (52) 614-429-3595,
State Tourism site: www.ah-chihuahua.com.mx
Details: Newcomers and experienced hands alike are welcome to join this
exciting cultural experience.
One of the best things is that riders can latch into any part of this trek - should you
only want to go along for a few days, or even just one afternoon, any combination
of camping / hotel stays can be made. A well-informed, English-speaking driver
with a car will be there to help you navigate the journey from point to point.
Some advance planning is recommended for the best of this adventure, but
Chihuahua Tourism is also a most thoughtful and flexible host, and side-trips and
last-minute inspirations are always handled with good humor.
Please note: this is by no means the only “cabalgata” in Mexico’s largest state –
another fine experience, for example, is to be had in October on the “Ruta de
Plata,” the Silver Route, near Batopilas, where tropical conditions at the bottom of
this Copper Canyon location compete with dramatic fall foliage at the top.
Contact: Sonia Estrada, Secretaria Tecnica, Fideicomiso Ah! Chihuahua. All
information available in English and Spanish.
sestrada@chihuahua.gob.mx, tel: (52) 614-429-3595,
State Tourism site: www.ah-chihuahua.com.mx
This material is copyrighted Jay Dunn 2012, as is all associated content on www.mexicoculturalcalendar.com |
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our cultural preservation
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visit our Sponsors page,
and join our community
on Facebook!
Accompanied by a rag-tag army of horse trailers, dented pickups and powerful utility vehicles, suppport teams drive ahead along concrete roads shimmering in the heat, making their way slowly
down through the crunch of gravel into towns too small to be on many maps, like El Charco, first stop after Chihuahua City. Tracks that lead nowhere are soon found out, and binoculars turn out
to be useful tools. Water is rare, and in long stretches nonexistent. Camping every night, riders and their families pick up new participants (“jinetes”) along the way. One rises at dawn, military
style, complete with bugle reveille. With each day, the cavalcade grows in size, bolstered by fresh horses and and a patriotic spirit. There is a palpable sense of community, with plenty of
children riding, some masterfully, families all tenting together, and the work of saddlery and equine care shared by all.
Towns turn out their best, too - at almost every overnight stop, there is a “fiesta,” which no nationality throws as well as Mexico. The beer is cold, and tequila flows freely during the day as well as
at night. In Satevo, a town of some size situated by a pretty river, everyone decamped right in the “zocalo,” the main square in town, shaded by trees with thick green foliage, and made truly
complete by a recently restored colonial church gleaming minimalist white against Chihuahua’s startling blue desert sky.
On an arduous journey like this, when shade is an exception, a “sombrero” is required, and the sheer variety of these is fascinating, from the light, woven straw of a cowboy-style hat, to the
massive three-foot curled brim of some of the Jalisco riders. Clothes are utilitarian, and necessarily so, with fine dust permeating everything, but bandanna colors abound, and protective leather
chaps, boots and gauntlets sport gorgeous embossed designs and the individuality of their owners.
From El Faro, the trail leads down into a valley and then through cool hills, where mesquite’s proximity to water makes their sweet bean-like fruit appropriate for picking as one sways by. The only
stop during the day is the dry riverbed crossing at the hamlet of El Velduque. With stony sand banks under the shade of tamarisk trees, it is a half-hour water stop for the horses only, some of
whom, free from their saddles, wriggle about on their backs in the riverbed, tired but excited to be scratching at last. The difficulty of pulling off a cultural commemoration like this in the middle
of July is not to be underestimated – at this stop, one of the horses, seen to be oddly walking backward, died shortly thereafter of a heart attack, exhaustion the likely cause.
After a twelve-hour ride through some of the driest territory yet, and a brief attack by a swarm of Africanized bees, the procession is welcomed by the biggest party of all in Valle de Zaragoza,
where the muddy waters of the Rio Conchos support farming for miles around. At the gates of the town, new “jinetes” awaited, curious onlookers lined the turn-off, and schoolchildren manned a
charming hand-painted float swathed in flags and bandoliers, topped off by a life-size cardboard General Villa and accompanied the town’s beauty queen, radiant in a white dress.
Vehicles of every kind jam the fairgrounds by the river, and in the cool of late afternoon, a contentment sets in – the bands play, kids build sandcastles at the shore, and everyone settles down to
the cabalgata’s well-deserved main feast, grilled river fish, chile con carne, tortillas, and ice –cold Tecate in cans by the thousand. Couples ride about two-on-a-horse, and everyone is here,
because this is the place to be.
While it might seem counterintuitive to have a 577 kilometer march like this in the middle of summer, there is a historical reason for it, as the procession ends in the mountain landscape of
Hidalgo de Parral on June 20th, the date General Villa was murdered in the town he loved. That this journalist’s hosts decided against documenting the reenactment says a lot – that there’s
been enough killing in the news, for instance. For the positive spirit it takes to show this kind of pride in one’s heritage, and for the enthusiastic young men and women who’ll carry on the tradition
of the “cabalgata,” there will never enough respect to go around.
Jay Dunn, July 20th, 2010
Hidalgo de Parral, Mexico
down through the crunch of gravel into towns too small to be on many maps, like El Charco, first stop after Chihuahua City. Tracks that lead nowhere are soon found out, and binoculars turn out
to be useful tools. Water is rare, and in long stretches nonexistent. Camping every night, riders and their families pick up new participants (“jinetes”) along the way. One rises at dawn, military
style, complete with bugle reveille. With each day, the cavalcade grows in size, bolstered by fresh horses and and a patriotic spirit. There is a palpable sense of community, with plenty of
children riding, some masterfully, families all tenting together, and the work of saddlery and equine care shared by all.
Towns turn out their best, too - at almost every overnight stop, there is a “fiesta,” which no nationality throws as well as Mexico. The beer is cold, and tequila flows freely during the day as well as
at night. In Satevo, a town of some size situated by a pretty river, everyone decamped right in the “zocalo,” the main square in town, shaded by trees with thick green foliage, and made truly
complete by a recently restored colonial church gleaming minimalist white against Chihuahua’s startling blue desert sky.
On an arduous journey like this, when shade is an exception, a “sombrero” is required, and the sheer variety of these is fascinating, from the light, woven straw of a cowboy-style hat, to the
massive three-foot curled brim of some of the Jalisco riders. Clothes are utilitarian, and necessarily so, with fine dust permeating everything, but bandanna colors abound, and protective leather
chaps, boots and gauntlets sport gorgeous embossed designs and the individuality of their owners.
From El Faro, the trail leads down into a valley and then through cool hills, where mesquite’s proximity to water makes their sweet bean-like fruit appropriate for picking as one sways by. The only
stop during the day is the dry riverbed crossing at the hamlet of El Velduque. With stony sand banks under the shade of tamarisk trees, it is a half-hour water stop for the horses only, some of
whom, free from their saddles, wriggle about on their backs in the riverbed, tired but excited to be scratching at last. The difficulty of pulling off a cultural commemoration like this in the middle
of July is not to be underestimated – at this stop, one of the horses, seen to be oddly walking backward, died shortly thereafter of a heart attack, exhaustion the likely cause.
After a twelve-hour ride through some of the driest territory yet, and a brief attack by a swarm of Africanized bees, the procession is welcomed by the biggest party of all in Valle de Zaragoza,
where the muddy waters of the Rio Conchos support farming for miles around. At the gates of the town, new “jinetes” awaited, curious onlookers lined the turn-off, and schoolchildren manned a
charming hand-painted float swathed in flags and bandoliers, topped off by a life-size cardboard General Villa and accompanied the town’s beauty queen, radiant in a white dress.
Vehicles of every kind jam the fairgrounds by the river, and in the cool of late afternoon, a contentment sets in – the bands play, kids build sandcastles at the shore, and everyone settles down to
the cabalgata’s well-deserved main feast, grilled river fish, chile con carne, tortillas, and ice –cold Tecate in cans by the thousand. Couples ride about two-on-a-horse, and everyone is here,
because this is the place to be.
While it might seem counterintuitive to have a 577 kilometer march like this in the middle of summer, there is a historical reason for it, as the procession ends in the mountain landscape of
Hidalgo de Parral on June 20th, the date General Villa was murdered in the town he loved. That this journalist’s hosts decided against documenting the reenactment says a lot – that there’s
been enough killing in the news, for instance. For the positive spirit it takes to show this kind of pride in one’s heritage, and for the enthusiastic young men and women who’ll carry on the tradition
of the “cabalgata,” there will never enough respect to go around.
Jay Dunn, July 20th, 2010
Hidalgo de Parral, Mexico
This is the 15th annnual “Cabalgata Villista,” an epic horse trek started in 1996 by José Socorro Salcido Gómez, in memory of Mexican revolutionary general Pancho Villa, and the inspired
nationalism he still brings to people today. Undaunted by blistering summer temperatures, the cavalcade wends its way southward through mesquite and chaparral, fording rivers and skirting
brush, averaging 35-40 kilometers a day along paths known to very few. Pedro Pallares, guide and horseman extraordinaire, leads the march, astride a most patient mule he occasionally stands
up on. The Mexican flag has pride of place, flying high at the front of a column three-abreast, as does Chicho Martinez, playing the part of Villa, sitting ramrod straight in the saddle hour after
dusty hour.
nationalism he still brings to people today. Undaunted by blistering summer temperatures, the cavalcade wends its way southward through mesquite and chaparral, fording rivers and skirting
brush, averaging 35-40 kilometers a day along paths known to very few. Pedro Pallares, guide and horseman extraordinaire, leads the march, astride a most patient mule he occasionally stands
up on. The Mexican flag has pride of place, flying high at the front of a column three-abreast, as does Chicho Martinez, playing the part of Villa, sitting ramrod straight in the saddle hour after
dusty hour.
The Axe of God, Chihuahua
The small plane banked steeply for a second pass, morning sun briefly flashing through the cockpit as we leveled off, the view below impossibly green, then revealing black and granite through
gossamer cloud, as if we were the first to discover the twisting river and sheer cliffs far below. “See, it is as I told you,” exclaimed Ismael Torres, our Cessna pilot, “like God has taken a great axe and
cleaved the Earth.”
Spread out before us as in an eagle’s eye were the legendary “Barrancas de Sinforosa,” a vast series of rugged canyons and ravines up to 6,000 ft. deep, whose slopes are clad in pine, live oak,
cactus and sagebrush. These beautiful and sometimes forbidding environs, part of Chihuahua’s Copper Canyon area, are home to many of Mexico’s Raramuri people, known as Tarahumara, the
“people with light feet.”
We have only 24 hours, and have come to the town of Guachochi to see one of the most remarkable races imaginable – a 100 km ultra-marathon. Driving straight out to the “mirador,” Sinforosa’s
main lookout, our pickup truck bumps along a red-earth road past farm after farm, interspersed with stretches of fragrant pine hemmed in by stone walls, the air fresh and cool at over a mile high.
Withdrawing from the advance of the Spanish “conquistadores” to the mountains that now bear their name, the Tarahumara dispersed their communities but managed to preserve much of their
ancient culture. They are mystics, healers, craftsmen, and expert farmers, blessed with legendary endurance, but it is hard-won, a survival skill developed and adapted over time. In these remote
places, running between distant villages is an essential communication and transportation necessity. Many Tarahumara will join this marathon, and often win it.
An international group of competitors begin at 5:00 AM and will, for the next 8 to 10 straight hours, run the course: 11 kilometers from town to the edge of the canyon, descend 1800 meters along a
rough trail, run along the river, ascend 1800 meters by the punishing “z” switchbacks, 11 kilometers into town again, then run back to the finish line at the lookout point. From this spectacular
vantage point of the “mirador,” it takes the mind and eyes much longer than usual to make their essential calculations, to readjust, and coordinate perception - the ravines of Sinforosa are very deep
indeed, and stretch in every direction as far as we can see.
Guachochi is not a big town, and there is a feeling everyone knows each other. Long, low houses of cinder block, a hard afternoon light through the scrub pines, people’s broad, smiling faces –
these are reminiscent of other high-altitude communities one encounters, on a farm in Qinghai, or in an Alaskan village.
And here, on the one night we could enjoy Guachochi hospitality, there were fine steaks on the grill, a “quinceanera,” a wedding, and a graduation ceremony all at the same venue, Saturday night
cruising up and down Main Street, and the odd knot of foreigners and Mexicans in shorts and day-glo sneakers, with their headlights and hydration gear not knowing what to do until morning.
A chill in the air, and an alarm that comes way too soon – by 4:45 AM, we’re ready. Credentials are checked, number placards signed for, pre-race photographs of excited friends flash by in the
pitch-black. Only the Tarahumara are completely calm, in their distinctive red headbands and long, angular white shirts knotted with beautiful braided belts. This event’s “huaraches,” or tire-soled
sandals, are the same as everyday footwear. There are many female competitors, who will run fully covered, in colorful print dresses. Within a few minutes, and not much fanfare, the pack is gone,
raising a ghostly dust trail out of town, along a route that would not be light for some time.
At hour four of the race, we were aloft, our careful timing intended to balance light and shadow, and avoid the dangerous rising thermals that would buffet a small craft as the sun warmed the air.
For a photographer in search of perspective for the big picture, and the detail that makes a written story, this was a precious piece of the puzzle, the sky clear as we skimmed the clouds by cliff's
edge, an advancing fog both burning off and still throwing into relief the highest peaks.
We would see this early morning the hopefulness of the runner’s descent into these canyons, but by the time we made it down to a precipitous wire bridge to photograph along the trail, there was a
different feel entirely - thirty or so grimly determined runners were already passing us on the way up, having climbed more than 4,000 ft. in an arduous combination of hiking and running.
Around the 70 km. mark, the bridge was built to safely cross what would be a substantial waterfall in the wet season. Support teams here checked runner’s numbers, gave out fruit and energy bars,
and attended with some seriousness to an injured participant, for his own safety ruling him out of further competition with an eight-stitch head wound.
What is most remarkable about this race is not just that people finish it, but that they do so as a matter of course. Vicente Gonzales has a patrician’s grace, a red scarf wrapped vertically around his
white hair Indonesia-style. At the bridge, he checked in with a smile, had a sip or two of a traditional barley drink, then without further word, disappeared up the 4 x 4 road behind us. He is eighty
years old.
On the trail further down, a faraway flash of color quickly materializes. Maria Isidora Rodriguez, a stoic expression on her face, is fully wrappped in a bright yellow Tarahumara dress, and quickly
making her way through the boulders that frame the path. She has company, a man and two young boys in baseball caps and jeans. They do not have race numbers. In less than a minute, Ms.
Rodriguez and her supportive family are out of sight again, bounding for all the world like deer through the foliage.
Jay Dunn, July 17, 2010
Guachochi, Mexico
gossamer cloud, as if we were the first to discover the twisting river and sheer cliffs far below. “See, it is as I told you,” exclaimed Ismael Torres, our Cessna pilot, “like God has taken a great axe and
cleaved the Earth.”
Spread out before us as in an eagle’s eye were the legendary “Barrancas de Sinforosa,” a vast series of rugged canyons and ravines up to 6,000 ft. deep, whose slopes are clad in pine, live oak,
cactus and sagebrush. These beautiful and sometimes forbidding environs, part of Chihuahua’s Copper Canyon area, are home to many of Mexico’s Raramuri people, known as Tarahumara, the
“people with light feet.”
We have only 24 hours, and have come to the town of Guachochi to see one of the most remarkable races imaginable – a 100 km ultra-marathon. Driving straight out to the “mirador,” Sinforosa’s
main lookout, our pickup truck bumps along a red-earth road past farm after farm, interspersed with stretches of fragrant pine hemmed in by stone walls, the air fresh and cool at over a mile high.
Withdrawing from the advance of the Spanish “conquistadores” to the mountains that now bear their name, the Tarahumara dispersed their communities but managed to preserve much of their
ancient culture. They are mystics, healers, craftsmen, and expert farmers, blessed with legendary endurance, but it is hard-won, a survival skill developed and adapted over time. In these remote
places, running between distant villages is an essential communication and transportation necessity. Many Tarahumara will join this marathon, and often win it.
An international group of competitors begin at 5:00 AM and will, for the next 8 to 10 straight hours, run the course: 11 kilometers from town to the edge of the canyon, descend 1800 meters along a
rough trail, run along the river, ascend 1800 meters by the punishing “z” switchbacks, 11 kilometers into town again, then run back to the finish line at the lookout point. From this spectacular
vantage point of the “mirador,” it takes the mind and eyes much longer than usual to make their essential calculations, to readjust, and coordinate perception - the ravines of Sinforosa are very deep
indeed, and stretch in every direction as far as we can see.
Guachochi is not a big town, and there is a feeling everyone knows each other. Long, low houses of cinder block, a hard afternoon light through the scrub pines, people’s broad, smiling faces –
these are reminiscent of other high-altitude communities one encounters, on a farm in Qinghai, or in an Alaskan village.
And here, on the one night we could enjoy Guachochi hospitality, there were fine steaks on the grill, a “quinceanera,” a wedding, and a graduation ceremony all at the same venue, Saturday night
cruising up and down Main Street, and the odd knot of foreigners and Mexicans in shorts and day-glo sneakers, with their headlights and hydration gear not knowing what to do until morning.
A chill in the air, and an alarm that comes way too soon – by 4:45 AM, we’re ready. Credentials are checked, number placards signed for, pre-race photographs of excited friends flash by in the
pitch-black. Only the Tarahumara are completely calm, in their distinctive red headbands and long, angular white shirts knotted with beautiful braided belts. This event’s “huaraches,” or tire-soled
sandals, are the same as everyday footwear. There are many female competitors, who will run fully covered, in colorful print dresses. Within a few minutes, and not much fanfare, the pack is gone,
raising a ghostly dust trail out of town, along a route that would not be light for some time.
At hour four of the race, we were aloft, our careful timing intended to balance light and shadow, and avoid the dangerous rising thermals that would buffet a small craft as the sun warmed the air.
For a photographer in search of perspective for the big picture, and the detail that makes a written story, this was a precious piece of the puzzle, the sky clear as we skimmed the clouds by cliff's
edge, an advancing fog both burning off and still throwing into relief the highest peaks.
We would see this early morning the hopefulness of the runner’s descent into these canyons, but by the time we made it down to a precipitous wire bridge to photograph along the trail, there was a
different feel entirely - thirty or so grimly determined runners were already passing us on the way up, having climbed more than 4,000 ft. in an arduous combination of hiking and running.
Around the 70 km. mark, the bridge was built to safely cross what would be a substantial waterfall in the wet season. Support teams here checked runner’s numbers, gave out fruit and energy bars,
and attended with some seriousness to an injured participant, for his own safety ruling him out of further competition with an eight-stitch head wound.
What is most remarkable about this race is not just that people finish it, but that they do so as a matter of course. Vicente Gonzales has a patrician’s grace, a red scarf wrapped vertically around his
white hair Indonesia-style. At the bridge, he checked in with a smile, had a sip or two of a traditional barley drink, then without further word, disappeared up the 4 x 4 road behind us. He is eighty
years old.
On the trail further down, a faraway flash of color quickly materializes. Maria Isidora Rodriguez, a stoic expression on her face, is fully wrappped in a bright yellow Tarahumara dress, and quickly
making her way through the boulders that frame the path. She has company, a man and two young boys in baseball caps and jeans. They do not have race numbers. In less than a minute, Ms.
Rodriguez and her supportive family are out of sight again, bounding for all the world like deer through the foliage.
Jay Dunn, July 17, 2010
Guachochi, Mexico
Chihuahua Feature
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