The Copper Canyon is really a misomer. There aren't copper mines found in the Canyon. In fact, it could very well be named the Grander Canyon, because in size, it is much larger the American Grand Canyon.
Standing at 2400m above sea level, the Divisaderio station is one of the highest point on the Chepe route between Chihuahua and Los Mochis. It is also the station where the train stop the longest. For this reason, I was expecting a sizeable town built around this station. As it turns out, there really isn't many buildings anywhere near the station.
There is a hotel with part of it hanging over the edge of the canyon (a good place to stay to have the scenery right outside your balcony), a small hut which is the ticket booth to the park built near the station, a little shop behind the station selling anything from powder detergent to Nacho tidbits and about a handful of buildings further down the track which serve unknown purposes.
I guess the train stop here the longest to allow the passengers to take a picture of the scenery, and to eat at the stalls along the track.
The cast of this stations are the passengers getting a quick bite, sourvenir peddlers and Mexican Indians just milling around with not much purposes. They just chat with each other, chat with us visitors, watch the coming and going of us visitors, check through the garbage can to look for something recycleable, or simply sit around. Some stray dogs were wandering around the stalls, hoping to get some scrap from the visitors. But none were Chihuahua dogs, though.
One indian guy commented on the dressing of a Mexican city-dwelling lady visitor. She was in some tight blouse and pants, with everything spilling out. I guess the indian was enquiring if she was 'for sale'. Her answer, in Spanish, seems to include a price in peso. I guess she was saying she is for sale, she named her price, and she was asking if the guy can afford it. The embarassment on his face was pretty visible.But you wouldn't find these people in the pictures. I have been in Mexican for 2 weeks, and I found that Mexicans just don't seems to be taking photoes, even if this has one built into their cellphone. I assume they just don't like taking picture. And here in the remote Divisedario, I just assume the Indians here still have their superstition about having their photoes taken (the camera taking away your soul and all). Anyway, pictures with just mountains, no people.
The souvenir peddlers also don't approach the customers. They just sit in the shade waiting for customer to approach. Along the edge of canyon, a little park was built, with a hiking path and a few vantage points. Most remote places like this, the kids will look, if not stare, at the visitors inquisitively. But here, the kids don't even bother with eye contact. They could either be used to visitors, or it is simply not polite in their culture to make eye contact.Or, very likely, I just don't look that much different from the Indians to warrant a second look. It might sound ridiculous, with Asia and South America being so far apart, but many of the Indians in Mexico has facial feature that reminds me of someone back home, albeit in a darker shade. The Aztec Indians are supposed to originate from Siberia, they probably move east across what is now the Russia far east, cross into America (now Alaska) many many years back (before CFC was invented, before global warming and before some ice bridge between Asia and America still exists), and then move down south into Mexico. If you think of how closed Siberia is to the Mongolia steppe, it is possible the Indian gene merging into the Mongolian gene. And think of how closed Mongolia is to China, so is it possible for the Mongolian gene to merge into Chinese gene. So, maybe it is not surprising that the Mexican American actually looks more like us Asian than an African or Caucasians.
Anyway, along this hiking path, you can just walk up closer to the edge and try to look down. Not recommended for those who are afraid of height.
The walk took about 2 hours. About half way through, I could hear a loud train whistle from the direction of the station. I was thinking has my return train just pulled out of the station, leaving me here in Divisedario. Luckily, that was the day's 1st class train leaving for Chihuahua. My 2nd class train is not yet here.
I arrived back at the station early for my train back to Chihuahua. As expected, the train was late. I while away the time people watching, and did a little shopping at the small grocer behind the station. Surprising, even at this remote touristy place, I found that the prices were not inflated. As it approaches late afternoon, the souvenir peddles were packing up and coming out from the parks, and were board the back of pickup trucks. I guess they are calling it a day and going home from their 'office'.When the train did arrive, it was the same familiar scene of passengers rushing for the food stall. Probably because the train needs to make up for lost time, the stop was much briefer, and some of the passengers was seen trying to finish their food from the disposable plates as they run along the track to board the train. This gave the stray dogs to sniff out some crumps. But I did not see a single Chihuahua dog.
I picked a seat where I could see the scenery on the side opposite the one when I came into Divisedario. When I inform the conductor that I have no ticket for the journey back, I could almost see his ears prick up. Call me a pessimist when it comes to human nature, but I could predict he was coming up with some scheme.
When he later came back with his colleague, he inform me that I could pay for the ticket to them. Well, nothing wrong with that, since I was told at Chihuahua to pay for my return trip at Divisedario, and the Divisedario station has no ticket counter. But then the conductor came back and inform me that, unfortunately, they have ran out of paper to print the ticket. If I am OK with that, I can have the ticket for 450 peso, a discount of 75% from the actual price. I paid up, since I would have to pay anyway, but I suspect the conductor would have pocketed the 450peso, since there is no paper trail for my purchase.Anyway the scenery back on this side of the train looks much better.
The guy's name is Juan. if it isn't, he has no business blocking the sign for the town of San Juanito.
But it was late in the afternoon, and before long, it was dusk, and then it was dark.It was past midnight when I arrive back in Chihuahua. There was a mad rush at the station for passengers trying to secure a taxi back home.
I agreed on a price for my trip back to the hotel, without knowing there were already 3 other passengers on the cab, going to 2 different places. The driver has to drop them off before taking me to the hotel. I was trying to memorize all the turn the cab made as it pulls further away from the station, but I gave up after the fifth turn. As the cab travel down dim and lonely roads to drop off the other passenger, the fear in me grows. The cab driver could threaten to abandon me by the road in a bid to jack up our agreed price (the cab don't run on the meter system). Worst, he could just rob me and abandon me by the road. I would be at his mercy.Fortunately, none of that happen. He got me safely back to the hotel, all the way carrying on this conversation:
Him: Ibis hotel, Si?
Me: Si, Si.
Him: Ibis hotel, Si?
Me: Si, Si, Ibis, Si.
......(repeat from the top.)
In fact, once I am safely in the hotel lobby, I insisted he pay me the change of 10 peso, a very small sum. He has no small changes so have to ask the hotel receptionist for it. I could sense his frustration (face turning beetroot red, beads of sweat on the forehead), but no anger. So, while the Mexican drug gangs are killing all over Mexico in their turf war, the majority of Mexicans are just making an honest living.
After a brief shut-eye, I was back on the road to Chihuahua airport to catch the flight back to Monterrey.
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