On the way to the Copper Canyon in Northern Mexico

Mexico, November 2016 My husband Dave and I are experienced travellers in faraway countries, but especially in the countries of the South American continent. In autumn/winter 2016, we undertook a two-month trip through Mexico and Guatemala. We had carefully planned the trip and had a plan B and C in reserve because we knew from experience that flexibility is necessary on such self-organised individual trips. We felt well prepared and also armed against unexpected eventualities. And yet we were surprised.

The arrival had worked out wonderfully, and we spent a few relaxing days on the beach of Sayulita, near Puerto Vallarta, on the Pacific coast. Slowly we left the wet and cold London winter weather behind us and got used to the warm climate and the way of life in Mexico. We settled in and felt ready to travel around the country.

We had long thought of taking the old El Chepe train to Barranca Cobre (also called Copper Canyon), the Mexican equivalent of the Gran Canyon (only much more beautiful, the Mexicans say). Travel reports about this highly recommended train trip aroused our interest. We wanted to experience it too!

El Chepe - the train from Los Mochis to Barranca de Cobre (Copper Canyon)

Our guidebook offered two alternatives for where and when to board the El Chepe train: At 6 am in Los Mochis or two hours later in El Fuerte. Quite simple!

But we were not yet in Los Mochis or El Fuerte! The distance between our current location Puerto Vallarta and Los Mochis was 691 km (429 miles) by plane and 866 km (538 miles) by bus. We had to allow 40 minutes for the flight, 14 hours 47 minutes for the bus journey, and, according to the internet, it would have taken 9 hours 37 minutes by car.

Spontaneously, we would have opted for a more environmentally friendly and often more exciting bus trip if our Mexican friends hadn't warned us. Travelling by bus or car in this part of Mexico, especially at night, is extremely dangerous. Criminal gangs would often attack buses and cars and rob the passengers. We didn't want to risk that and therefore decided to fly. But even that was not easy to do.

There were a few direct flights, but because they were private flights, they were too expensive for us. We had a tight budget and had to manage it for two months. We didn't want to spend much money at the beginning of our trip. And from then on, things got complicated.

The only alternative to direct flights was to fly via Mexico City, a distance of 1,885 km (812 miles), which meant a diversion of about 1,200 km (743 miles). Crazy, but that was the only way!

Map of Mexico: The distance between Puerto Vallarta and Los Mochis is 691 km, but the flight to Los Mochis has to go via Mexico City. The flight distance from Puerto Vallarta to Mexico City was only 651 km (405 miles) and should take 45 minutes. The connecting flight from Mexico City to Los Mochis (distance 1,234 km, 767 miles) would take 90 minutes, so we found out. No big deal then - actually. However, the flight schedules showed that the connecting flights were not optimally coordinated, and besides, everyone knows that Mexico City airport is also chronically overloaded. For this reason, we reckoned that our journey time would probably be six to nine hours instead of a good two hours. And afterwards, we would have to take a taxi for one or two hours because at that time there was no longer a bus running, depending on whether we wanted to take the train in Los Mochis or in El Fuerte. And we also had to book an overnight stay.

So we had a long and tiresome day of travelling ahead of us, during which we could plan and organise our onward journey nicely. Or so we thought!

We had plenty of time and free wifi as we waited for our connection at Mexico City airport. So we got to work.

The choice of accommodation for the coming night depended on where and when we wanted to catch the El Chepe train. Either we stayed overnight in the destination of our flight, Los Mochis, and boarded the El Chepe at 6 am, or we continued by taxi to El Fuerte in the evening and boarded the train there at 8:19 am the next morning. Sleep two hours longer or take two hours longer to get there? That was the question.

Despite the extra cost of the taxi ride, we decided to sleep longer because the hotels in Los Mochis had consistently poor ratings.

Booking a room in a cheap hotel, El Guerrero, in El Fuerte worked fine, and we received a booking confirmation immediately. We were delighted with our travel plans.

Shortly afterwards, we learned that our connecting flight would be a little delayed. I immediately phoned the hotel and told them we would be late but would arrive by taxi shortly after 9:30 pm. All sorted!

Finally, we could take our seats on the plane and expected no more delays. But far from it!

Just before take-off, a man three rows before us started talking excitedly to the flight attendant and the captain. Then he quickly got up and left the plane without any luggage. His seat neighbour ran after him to give him his mobile phone, which he had forgotten.

We thought perhaps he had had a panic attack and was afraid of flying. We didn't think any further about it because these things happen. Shortly afterwards, however, three security guards entered the plane and took the seats apart, not only in the row where the man had been sitting but also in the two rows in front and behind him. They only stopped their search for a possible bomb one row in front of us. Madness! Who would have thought it?!

Fortunately, they didn't find one. But now they also had to search the luggage in the hold to take out his bags. This is a standard security measure when someone leaves a plane before it takes off and has checked baggage.

We were getting quite nervous as time passed, and we still had a long journey ahead of us after arriving in Los Mochis.

We finally set off over an hour and a half late. We calculated that given our estimated flight arrival time of 9 pm and a two-hour taxi ride to El Fuerte, according to the guidebook, we would arrive at the hotel at 11 pm at the earliest.

Maybe we should cancel the hotel in El Fuerte and stay in Los Mochis instead? We looked at a few alternative hotels in Los Mochis on the internet but decided to make a decision on arrival at the airport.

Fortunately, the plane was able to make up some time. At the taxi counter in the airport, we learnt that the ride to El Fuerte would be 45 minutes shorter and 50% cheaper (1100 pesos - US$50) than the internet said. So far, so good. We decided to take a taxi to El Fuerte to the hotel we had booked anyway.

Our taxi driver, César, was friendly and quite talkative. So we started to relax. But only for a short while! César soon stopped at a dark car park and disappeared. It was pitch black all around, and we could see absolutely nothing. What was going on here? Had he stopped to give us up to some gang of criminals who wanted to rob us? We were apprehensive.

But soon, he came back, jumped into the car and drove on. We relaxed.

Twenty minutes later, the same thing happened. He stopped, disappeared into the darkness, came back five minutes later and drove on.

Well, maybe he had prostate problems or a weak bladder or diarrhoea. Who knows. Who cares. He was cheerful and talkative, and we ended up trusting him.

Throughout the trip, he told us how wonderful Mexico was. He strongly condemned US President Trump. He had worked in the roofing industry in the US for 12 years. All his colleagues there were hard-working Mexicans (not as lazy as the blacks - his words). Cesar said he wanted to return to the US to work and earn more money. But that was not possible as long as Trump was president, he said. This was consistent with what we would hear many times later as we travelled through Mexico. Mexican men and women had worked for years in the US to earn money and improve their lives and those of their families but saw no way to continue doing so at the moment. As we approached El Fuerte, I called the hotel again to let them know we were on our way and would arrive shortly. This time, however, the voice on the other end of the line told me that the hotel was full and there was no room for us. What?! I couldn't believe what I was hearing. I insisted on our booking, which had, after all, been confirmed. We were on our way and would arrive soon, I told the receptionist. The taxi driver was annoyed with the hotel's business practices. Concerned, he offered to help us get a bed for the night. Good man!

When we arrived at the hotel, everything was dark, and the gates closed. César and Dave rattled the gate until someone came. César spoke on our behalf to the hotel clerk, who, after a while, called the manager. She said she had emailed us a while ago that the hotel was, unfortunately, fully booked. I had not received an email and was sure she was lying. Possibly, when we didn't arrive at the agreed time, she had become anxious, got scared of losing money, and so quickly rented out our room to someone else when the opportunity arose. (Incidentally, a few days later, I was charged a no-show fee by booking.com, through which we had booked the hotel room, confirming my suspicions). Our kind taxi driver César argued with her until she finally agreed to call someone who might still have a room for us. César drove us there. He wanted to ensure that the place was okay for us and that we were fine. We gave him an extra tip of 100 pesos (about £4.20 or 4.80 euros) for his efforts, which he gladly accepted. And such a man, we had assumed for a moment that he might hand us over to a gang of robbers! Our accommodation for the night was in another part of town and was indeed awful. The room was above what appeared to be a garage. It was hot and tiny, with only a small bed, a fridge that didn't work and a small shower cubicle. The walls were made of red industrial bricks and were neither plastered nor painted. The accommodation cost 500 pesos (£21 or 24 euros). However, we had no choice at this time of night and finally reluctantly accepted the room. We thanked our ever-helpful taxi driver and wished him a safe journey back to Los Mochis.

The owner of the guesthouse, a young man, offered to take us for 100 pesos to the train station outside the city at 7.30 am the next day. We gladly accepted the offer. At least this question was solved.

From the house across the street, we heard loud music from some drunks sitting on a truck drinking beer. Many empty cans were lying around the pickup. They must have been partying for quite a while. It didn't look like they were going to get tired soon. So we prepared ourselves that we wouldn't get much sleep that night. But what else could we do?! Stay optimistic and make the best of it! I asked our host where we could get drinking water for the evening and ingredients for breakfast the following day. He offered to drive us to the local supermarket. He also suggested stopping at the supermarket on the way to the train station in the morning. That way, we could stock up on coffee and food for the journey. That was nice of him and a good idea, and we were somewhat reconciled with the uncomfortable accommodation. On the way back from the supermarket, he received a call and informed us that our bed linen was about to be changed. He, therefore, offered to drive us around the town and show us sights such as the town hall, the main square, the cathedral, the old colonial houses and the El Fuerte Fort, where the locals had fought off the Spanish.

El Fuerte is a lovely little town, and we enjoyed the drive and the history lesson. But in the back of our minds lurked suspicion again. After all, we had left our luggage, including our valuables and money, at the hotel, and I was worried if our things would still be there when we returned.

Was this friendly city tour possibly just a diversion to give the thieves in the hotel time to put our belongings aside and disappear? I couldn't quite push that thought out of my mind. But when we came back, all our things were still there, just as we had left them. How terribly suspicious of us! We feared the worst, and this lovely young man went to so much trouble to do us a favour and make us feel at home in his guest house. We quickly went to bed, crawled under the fresh sheets and tried to sleep without thinking about insects or other animals that might crawl along the brick wall and bite us. The noise of the drunken people soon subsided. Eventually, we fell into a deep sleep until we were awakened very early in the morning by loud crowing cockerels, church bells and noisy engines. But that was all right because we had to get up at 6.45 anyway, as we needed to leave for the train station at 7.30.

In the morning, the sun was shining. The sky was blue, and everything looked friendlier than at night. The house seemed to have been built recently and was not quite finished, hence the lack of plaster on the wall of our room. We glanced at the guests in the neighbouring rooms who were getting ready for the day. They greeted us in a friendly and curious way because they didn't often get to see tourists from faraway countries in this area. Our host was already waiting to take us to the train. His mother gave us three large grapefruits from her garden for the journey. Just like that! A kind of farewell gift out of pure hospitality.

The young man was even more talkative now than in the evening. He was a car mechanic and tried to earn his living with all kinds of work, he told us. The new guesthouse was also meant to be another pillar of his livelihood, so to speak.

On the way, he pointed out a rehabilitation centre for alcohol and drug addicts where he worked as a volunteer. This naturally aroused my interest because I had worked in the addiction field in London for many years.

He told us about the enormous scale of the addiction problem in his home town of El Fuerte and the whole region of Sinaloa. A very popular drug in this area, he said, is crystal, which is damaging to health. People who use crystal lose weight quickly, and the body deteriorates rapidly.

He also reported about the high unemployment and poverty rate in El Fuerte and that many people feel they have no perspective and no future. Therefore, there is no incentive to get off drugs. I admired this young man who, despite the desolate situation in his region, was optimistic and working towards a better life for his family and friends, no matter how hard and frustrating it was.

We arrived at the station and wholeheartedly wished our host well in his endeavours and future, secretly ashamed of our mistrust. Once again, we had to admit that prejudices were also deeply rooted in our minds. And once again, people had proved us wrong.

Everyone we had met on this trip in Sinaloa, apart from the disdainful hotel owner, had been helpful and friendly. Only we had thought the worst of them. But we had learned our lesson at the beginning of our trip and could now travel through Mexico and Guatemala without reservations.

Regarding our train ride with El Chepe, we received a good tip from our young host that proved the internet recommendations wrong. They said you had to book your seats on the train well in advance, as the train was usually fully booked. What was not mentioned was that this only applied to first class.

However, we did not want to sit between tourists but between locals. As our friendly host explained, second-class passengers usually board the train and get their seats assigned by the conductor. He then comes by later, the young man explained, and sells the tickets as soon as the train is in motion.

On time and with a loud whistle, the train, El Chepe, arrived with many carriages, five first class and even more second class. There was still plenty of room. So what was all the fuss about on the internet?! Maybe they wanted inexperienced tourists to buy the much more expensive first-class tickets online. Or perhaps we were too suspicious again?!

Either way, now we didn't have to worry anymore. We could relax, eat our breakfast, enjoy our big juicy grapefruits and enjoy the ride through the beautiful mountainous landscape on the old and famous El Chepe train to Copper Canyon. (LL)

With the El Chepe train through the Copper Canyon a fascinating journey