Less than a month before this scheduled trip I looked at my blank September calendar and thought I might try to fit in one more trip over the summer. The logistics and costs seemed reasonable; I could drive to the border, cross CBX into the Tijuana airport, and have one direct 2-hour flight to my destination. The checked bag would cost about as much as the plane ticket. I know very little about this broader Copper Canyon/Sierra Madre Occidental part of northern Mexico and this seemed a great way to get my foot in the door. From the few photos I saw it looked like a neat trip with a nice variety of bedrock gorge sections, class III+ rapids, great hikes up side canyons, and pleasantly temperatured water the whole way. I would be able to rack up a further 281 km (175 mi) of packrafting for the season. And so I committed. The Mexico flight left a little over two weeks from returning from Canada's Broken Skull River (North America grand tour!) so I never really had to repack gear, just swap out my cold weather clothes for my blisteringly hot weather clothes. The plan was to start on the Rio Tutuaca, which became the Rio Aros at the Rio Sirupa confluence and the became the Rio Yaqui at the Rio Bavispe confluence. The river was highly sinuous at both a macro and micro scale such that the 281km river trip ended less than 80km away from where it started. Less than a week before departure I received an ominous email suggesting very low water levels in the region and the possibility of rafts having trouble until we reached the bigger Rio Aros; this ended up being an understatement with the rafts having difficulties that extended to every day of the trip.
Outgoing travel was overall a breeze with one notable hiccup. I drove down to my grandpa's place in eastern San Diego the night before and then drove to CBX very early the next day. At 4am in the dark on the I-805 only a couple miles from the border I hit something spectacularly hard that instantly shredded my front right tire and even dented my wheel beyond use. The timing! I sucked it up, found my headlamp, and rallied to try to change the tire as fast as I could so my trip did not end before it started. As I changed it I saw over a dozen different car pulled over on the shoulder upstream of me so it was clear whatever I hit was ruining many other people's mornings as well. I limped to the parking lot and got the shuttle to CBX. Thankfully I got through CBX, over the bridge, through customs, checked bag, and through security as fast as I could walk (30 minutes) so I was back on track other than having extra chores to do upon my return.
I taxied from the Chihuahua Airport to the hotel in Chihuahua city and spent much of the day helping the guides shop and organize gear. Predictably it was a toasty hot day and the region reminded me quite a lot of southern Arizona scenically. Most of the group had dinner together in the evening and after more logistic shenanigans, the next day we finally had our group assembled: two guides, three clients, and myself. Our overloaded passenger van slowly worked its way 300 km to the west (~7 hours) out of the low Chihuahuan Desert into surprisingly lush oak woodland and pine forest. We arrived at Basaseachi a little before dark and closed out the only restaurant open in town. The next morning we visited Cascada de Basaseachi (see previous post) and then had a painfully long drive on the highway and then a long dirt road to the enormous Minas Dolores, which provides one of the very few reasonable put-ins. It took us over 8 hours to go 150 km, necessitating many smoke and bathroom breaks. We were supposed to have an escort along the mine access road (a little unclear if this was cartel or mine related), but there seemed to be a miscommunication and it was no matter in the end. We drove over many valleys and ridges with a weird mix of oak trees, cacti, and some sort of tree yucca. Just before the last descent to the river the clouds built dramatically and I managed to beg a stop of a picturesque rainbow (below). Our first look at the river was...crushing. The guides laughed at how low the river was; my reaction was more of disaster. I did not see how we would get fully loaded rafts down the knee-biting rocky stream, which could not have had more than 300 cfs in it. We unloaded the vehicle as rain started and the driver departed as quickly as he could, leaving us on a rocky pullout next to a rickety bridge and a too-low river. We all wondered if the rain would somehow save us by swelling the river.
Day 1. Thankfully we had no rain by the morning and so after breakfast we began the laborious task of rigging for a long raft trip. Sleeping was difficult due to the warm temperatures made even more tropical by the rainfly. The river responded disappointingly little to the overnight rain, rising perhaps six inches first thing in the morning to drop back down to our arrival level by the time we pushed off. In unfurling one of the brand new China factory-direct rafts we uncovered our first big oops of the trip: the raft had no floor! This was incredibly worrisome but to Ariel's credit he managed to salvage this grave situation by strapping in the inflatable kayak in place of the floor, a solution which thankfully held for the remainder of the trip. With this and other shenanigans rigging went slow and it was after lunch by the time we finally pushed off. The river was thoroughly muddy and opaque but happily not in a way that was gritty or dried out your hands like the Dolores River. The scenery in this section was great between the towering conglomerate cliffs and the varied vegetation including great agave, flowering Mexican bird-of-paradise, organ pipe cacti, and sycamore trees as well as lusher species I was unfamiliar with. This was offset by a river painfully devoid of water with packraft scraping and raft beaching at virtually every rapid and riffle, which made progress slow and exhausting. I saw five deer, some sort of more petite species than the mule deer common in California. We had a fair bit of rain in the afternoon but with the warm temperatures it was no matter and contributed positively to the mood of the place. We stopped at a river right creek at some point to fill up on clean drinking water. It would have been a nice place to go for a hike but the goal for the day was clearly to make some miles to get to the Aros confluence (and hopefully a much bigger river) as soon as possible. We had a lot of paddling and pushing boats. We did not make it to the camp we hoped to and so pulled over for an improvised camp when we basically had enough at 6:50pm. This ended up being a fairly nice camp after we cleared vegetation to make tent platforms. We had lots of frogs at this camp and a few fireflies hanging out over the river. From my InReach I received news of a tropical storm warning in southern California, which was weird and surprising but unfortunately would not help us in raising our river. We camped river right at Km17.5, going 17.5km for the day.
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| Rafts in lower center at our Rio Tutuaca put-in |
Day 2. We had a somewhat slow morning getting into the habit of working as a team and left just before 10am. No change in water level overnight. Overall the day had better rapids but we still had plenty of boat scraping to contend with. We saw some nice cliffs and craggy peaks. We stopped for a late lunch and water fill-up at a clear river right creek (below). We saw the first of a great many number of cows on our trip. I rescued Kevin's paddle which he lost to the river while trying to help free a beached raft. Soon after I noticed a barbed wire fence fully across the river at sweeper level; thankfully I was in the front and pulled over in time to lift and hold it high enough for each boat to pass underneath. This was starting to feel like a very sloppy trip. We had some thunder in the afternoon but most of the rain seemed to miss us. Camp was decided early at 4pm since Chocho's raft developed an enormous T-shaped rip that would need to be patched. Ariel asked me if I had a jar of glue like I was supposed to carry enough to repair a 14foot raft, which surprised me. It was only later that I found out they managed to leave the patch kit behind...I helped in the kitchen doing my best to stay clear of the chaos I witnessed in trying to repair the boat but at one point a stove heated machete seemed to be used to plastic weld the patch! The camp was desperate but once again we managed to carve something out of the rough. I went to bed tired like everyone else. We camped river left at Km37.5 making 20km for the day.
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| Stopping for clear drinking water in a side creek |
Day 3. We pushed off 10:30am. Shortly we arrived at the Sirupa confluence, below which we were now on the Rio Aros. The Sirupa was greenish and added considerable volume which temporarily reduced the number of packraft scrapes. The forest seemed to change noticeably at the confluence. It was now a drier forest and the riverside sycamores were replaced with cottonwoods. We had a long stop at the rickety Refugio footbridge to try to fill up on some drinking water at the rancho there, finally leaving around 3pm. Beyond we had some of the more fun rapids of the trip. It was becoming readily apparent the raft patch job was not ideal, requiring pumping to reinflate about every 10-15 minutes for the remainder of the trip. We scouted Aros Fury which was fun and Aros Fun which was infuriating as the rafts could not really thread between the many exposed rocks and needed help. We had a mixture of weather from sunny and hot to cloudy with threat of rain, ending with one of the clearest nights. The day ended with some gorge sections that provided some of the best scenery of the whole trip and I even found a nice cliff jump spot. We ended at Playa Batano, easily the best camp of the trip (a low bar considering it was nearly the only camp we intended to end up at). This was a picturesque sandy beach on a bend in the river and opposite a colorful cliff plunging straight into the river (frontispeiece) and probably the high point of the trip. In the evening we had bats overhead and enjoyed the near-perfect water temperatures and a clear night. I carved out a tent spot in the trees at the top of the beach and brought my hammock out for the only time on the trip. I had a pleasant nighttime swim, a ritual I would continue every subsequent night of the trip. I correctly chanced it and went to bed without my rainfly. We camped on river right at Km63, going 25.5km for the day.
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| Playa Batano camp at lower center |
Day 4. I slept well without the rainfly. Another 10:30am-ish departure. The canyon soon opened and the scenery was overall less spectacular than the previous day. It was a punishingly hot day with nearly all flatwater (that would have been moving if the river was higher), and lots and lots of cows. I found the best cliff jump spot of the trip and even Kevin had a go. I saw two more deer and later another deer crossed the river right in front of me which was neat to see. We made camp at the Mulatos River confluence at a late 7pm. I used the little remaining light to get the drone up in the air providing one of my favorite shots of the trip with the clear water of the Mulatos merging with the Aros. We had distant lightning but the storm spared us. I had a nighttime soak in the Mulatos. We were exhausted by the many miles of flatwater paddled and had a goal to make even more the following day. We camped river left at Km95 going 32km for the day.
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| Aros & Mulatos (clear) confluence |
Day 5. We awoke to a heavy dew, which slowed us down but we still managed to set out at 9:15am. The river was painfully slow moving and the sun heated things up fast. We saw countless cows, burros, horses, and tires along the river this day. We stopped at the only town along the river, Natora, and killed 2.5 hours searching for random supplies, water, and collecting every last bit of ice (including frozen ziploc bags and coke bottles) from the locals. It was absolutely infuriating to have our early start and solid progress be squandered by this disorganized scavenger hunt. It was roasting hot. The river picked up some current a little below Natora but so did a headwind to balance it out. Sedimentary rocks at river level provided a little variety. Overall it was a punishingly hot day and the first day I was sore from paddling by the end of it. We began to paddle furiously for the shade and then linger for brief moments of relief, a behavior which continued the rest of the trip. We found a nice (unmarked) beach camp, one of the better ones on the trip. We had a random collared dog show up in camp and stay with us overnight, happy to be fed. We were working hard and making slow progress on this grimly low river, still finding bars that scraped the boats. It was becoming obvious to me that Rocky's suggested itinerary was farcical and I sat down to try to sketch out a day by day plan that would allow us to make it to the end on schedule. We camped river right at Km129, going 34km this day.
Day 6. I went without the rainfly again and got the best night's sleep yet. Only a light dew. We worked hard to get an all-time early push off of 9am flat and even had the dog (now named Aros) joining us on a raft for reasons I do not understand. Equally inexplicably we dropped the dog with a random person fishing 15km downriver. We stopped at El Aliso slot canyon where Kevin, Adriana, and I waded up the murky waters of this neat little slot, an excellent diversion from the usual flatwater paddle. Nearly every day we would see mysterious congregations of yellow butterflies on the wet sand near the water; I seldom could resist the urge of paddling up to them to action them into cloud of yellow swirling around me. We had some decent rapids this day and some better scenery (but also till too many cows), especially in the bedrock passage of Lone Palm Canyon where we had lunch at a neat beach opposite a hoodoo rock. We made 15km by lunch but the hot afternoon miles were hard work with lots of the group losing steam under the hottest sun of the trip thus far. We eventually pulled into another unmarked camp. I had a nice night swim beneath developing clouds and a bright moon. A dutch oven cake was also a highlight. We camped on river left at Km163.5 going 34.5km for the day. We broke halfway thank god but so many kilometers to go...
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| El Aliso slot canyon |
Day 7. Another no rainfly good night's sleep with no dew in the morning. The sun hit camp early and the day started hot until clouds provided some minor relief. We had a cute little toad happily wandering around our kitchen checking things out. We left at 9:10am and made good paddling time in the morning. We had an obtainable goal in mind of reaching the Cueva Nacori camp; in Rocky's itinerary this was going to be a layover which meant it was likely a desirable camp. We would not be able to fit in a layover but having an extra hour or two in a nice camp could do a lot for morale. This was the second of three times on the trip we would be desperate for clear drinking water. Later I found out that the alum/flocculant was left behind with the raft repair kit meaning the murky river was not a viable water source, yet another strike against preparedness on this trip. I managed to spot a magic clear water spring on river right which saved us this time at least. We had lunch at the mouth of Arroyo Santa Rosa and then Kevin, Adriana, and I hiked up to the narrows despite disapproving glares of Ariel. This was supposed to be a scooped out section of bedrock with deep pools but we instead found it full of gravel with only a knee depth pool. We had a quick soak then returned. Once back at the boats Ariel announced that we would paddle past Cueva Nacori for our camp in the interest of making more miles. I said sure OK but this broke the trip for me- from this point on the trip was no longer about enjoyment or the experience, it was just a race to the finish line. I had discontent building up to this point (as did the others clearly) but the trip immediately changed in my mind. At this point I was more than ready to go home and severely regretted joining this trip. No choice but onward, we paddled onward. We made good time in some canyon sections that provided nice corridors of shade. I saw a family of four coatis (racconish animals) that were neat to see fairly close. We still had rapids and bars where the water was too low for even packrafts to float which was disheartening. We stopped for a full 5 minutes at Cueva Nacori (raft captains did not even get off the rafts); it seems like it would have been a nice camp, especially considering it would have protected us from the heavy rain that soon descended on us. Thunder and lightning built on the horizon and then on us. The last 3km of the day we paddled through an epic thunderstorm with disturbingly close lightning. Eventually we stopped for yet another improvised camp and rushed to set up the kitchen rain tarp to wait out the worst of the storm. We saw a nice double rainbow so that was something. The river water was particularly warm at this point, notably warmer than the air temperature and so seemed like a hot tub. Ariel chose this exhausting wet night of all nights to make dutch oven lasagna. It was finally ready to eat at 10pm; every bite of mine was completely inedible with sand, which was really more funny than anything at this point. It was a crushing day with the barely moving river and heightened slave driving tone it was taking. It was a rough night's sleep in a grossly tropical tent I could barely breathe in. We camped river left at Km199.5 going 36km for the day.
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| Arroyo Santa Rosa narrows |
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| Cueva Nacori |
Day 8. I got less than 4 hours of sleep and was not alone in this. I cut my hand pretty terribly carrying my packraft over the sharp boulders down to the water, which I would have to baby the rest of the trip. I had to pack a lot of my gear away wet, never fun, but we managed to get on the water at 9:30am. We started the day making good progress paddling 9km of flatwater to Morita Rapid. This morning (8 of 10) I finally managed to convince the guides we had 281km to reach the takeout instead of the 257 km they were mistakenly operating from; the guides almost never knew where they were but this was particularly alarming. Limestone signaled the start of La Bocana Canyon; soon after Morita signaled our doom. We stopped to scout and it was completely grim at this low water level. No one ran it. We portaged kayaks, packrafts, and personal gear up and over the boulders on the left shore and then worked as a team to push, prod, and force the two rafts through the right side of the rapid. It took forever and everyone worked up a sweat. So much for our good pace and moving water providing us a break. The subsequent rapids Moritita, Roca Blanca, Cajones, and Olisimas were all terrible for the rafts and we had to stop to help them through. I hiked up Arroyo Las Perdices to find us some shallow pools of drinking water. This day was breaking us. With the rapids it took us 4.5 hours to go 4km. Once out of this section is was just a miserable all out grind on flatwater for the rest of the day. We did not even stop for lunch, I just had two packets of cookies thrown at me from a raft. I saw two coatis. Kevin, Adriana, and I stopped for a brief dip at the Bavispe confluence (now we were on the Rio Yaqui). More slow water paddling on a mirrored river. We finally pulled over for yet another improvised camp at 7:20pm. Noticing I was less tired than the others I tried to pull more weight setting up camp. When I took five minutes to try to find a nice and private place to set up the toilet (something they were terrible at and their clients were repeatedly commenting on) the guides thought it was the joke of the day laughing at me and I immediately hit my daily limit of them. I chose to be alone the rest of the night, camping well away from the others, eating my own dinner of peanut butter pretzels, and having a very long moonlit soak in the river (probably the second best part of the trip). Even when I explained what was up to one of the guides all they had to say was that it was a joke and then proceeded to set up the toilet behind the first branch is a very visible location. My sentiment was half facepalm, half middle finger. It was a brutal, brutal day. There was some nice scenery but also plenty of visuals of cows defecating straight into the river and more tires than I had seen in my life. We camped river left at Km230 working incredibly hard to go a measly 30.5km.
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| A too low Morita Rapid (and below) |
Day 9. Thankfully no rain, a light dew, and we were off at 9am. The river was flat and ugly and we had no clouds until the afternoon. I saw a water turtle and a couple deer in the morning. We made 14km by the time we stopped for lunch. We paddled and rowed all day long apart from a 45 minute lunch break. Everyone was exhausted. It was punishingly hot. Paddle, paddle, paddle. I looked longingly at the two side canyons I was very much looking forward to hiking as we paddled past. We were very very desperate for drinking water. In the afternoon we spotted two dogs at La Carpa (Km266) and I flew the drone trying to find any signs of habitation (aka water) but finding only abandoned ruins for kilometers. A little after Ariel called all the boats together to announce that he did not think we had enough water to camp overnight and should probably paddle the remaining 11km well into night! Not the first or last terrible display of decision-making by our trip leader. F that terrible idea was my mantra. The geologist in me kicked in to problem solve and less than 1km downriver I pulled over river left at a steep drainage that looked like it should be floored with highly impermeable rock a short distance up. I scrambled about 5 minutes up and soon saw white dried-waterlines of former pools, then a tiny pool with a cupped hand worth of water, then a shallow pool with 5L of water, then a little further up I found the deep 100L pool that saved the day for us. I retrieved Chocho (barefoot...) and Ariel and we filled up our two large water jugs. Now with water we went a short distance further and camped on a cowpie laden beach for one of our worst (but who cares, last) camps of the trip. I camped above the beach under trees hoping for no dew (a good call as it turned out). We camped river right at Km170.5 going 40.5km and leaving us with 10.5km to go.
Day 10. We got up early and paddled our 10.5km. Flat, flat, flat. I stopped in every little piece of shade I could find and went for a dip in the water. We arrived at our takeout at Rancho Cordoba at 11am and by noon had disassembled everything and carried it across the wash to the road for pickup. We thought we were done...The van was supposed to meet us at noon but 1pm and 2pm past with still no shuttle driver. Our trip leader was falling apart suggesting we move and organize camping gear in case we needed to camp here and asking us what time our flights were tomorrow (!!!). I did what little I could in this terrible situation by texting people by InReach that might be able to help and flying my drone to see if the vehicle was nearby and just could not find us. No luck, around 2:30pm we piled gear into a manure-floored horse trailer and jumped in the bed of the ranch truck to head to the nearby town of Sahuaripa to try to troubleshoot our options. Shortly after the bridge over the Yaqui we past the shuttle driver and so we looped back to catch up with him. Huge sighs of relief from all. In Sahuaripa we transferred gear and ourselves into a sardine packed vehicle and began a painfully (most frequent word I have used in this post?) long drive on steep and twisty mountain roads. Once one of us got reception I realized we had changed time zones so the driver was less late and our trip leader's reaction was less appropriate. Most of the rest of the car got sloppy drunk but I did not feel like we had reached safety yet and wanted to keep my faculties. We had to stop a couple times because the overheated brakes nearly gave way. Once down the mountain roads on the home stretch we got a flat tire, which the sloppy drunk guides took upon themselves to change (longer and less safe than if they got out of the way). At the end of my rope, we finally reached the hotel in Hermosillo around 8pm in a vicious thunderstorm. I grabbed my stuff, went to my room, and ate the last of my peanut butter pretzels, hungry but too tired to venture out.
Escape. Thankfully the early morning Uber to the airport, Hermosillo airport, CBX, and a ride back to my limping car were the smoothest part of the whole trip. It was a memorable trip...
The good. I survived. Everyone survived. I did not manage to recruit any friends or family into joining me for the trip, which I would have felt incredibly guilty about. I saw some neat things, had one great camp, and really enjoyed the warm water temperatures. The vegetation was an interesting mix of things. I got to visit two more states in Mexico. I have renewed motivation to work on my Spanish.
The bad. The scenery was occasionally spectacular and often great, but the default view of the 281km trip was of tire trash and defecating cows. I have never cumulatively paddled more flatwater in my entire life as I had on this trip, which was not as advertised. I could have spent as long on Lake Powell and paddled less flatwater. I took a lot of GoPro footage but have decided it is not even worth my time to go through it.
The ugly. The river was way too low to be a viable river trip and the guides were an inexcusable level of unprofessional and unprepared. It was objectively not a good trip. I never say this of places I have never been and would otherwise not get to see but with foresight there is not a chance I would not have gone and I would have found something else to do.
