Most Mexican cities and towns are noisy places, filled with traffic, voices, music and miscellaneous sounds. The Barranca del Cobre, which in English we call the Copper Canyon, is one of the quietest places I have ever been. It is actually not one canyon but a labyrinth of seven enormous canyons that could swallow our Grand Canyon several times over. Other than the two times a day when the train (below) rumbles through the clefted upland called the Sierra Tarahumara, nature's sounds prevail: wind whipping through the trees, rain splashing on rocks and roofs, rain water coursing down hillsides, insistent roosters crowing from dawn to dusk.
Below is the view from the terrace of my room at the Posada de Barrancas.
Tarahumara women make and sell exquisite baskets crafted from pine needles, reeds and other natural materials. These quiet, shy people do not hustle or pester -- nor do they invite bargaining or other aggressive shopping.
Simple homes are perched on ledges or in valleys with some elbow room. Below, a washline with a wondrous view.
Tarahumara women wear bright clothes and keep babies on their backs.
Older children look after younger ones.
Simple, ancient churches established by Spanish missionaries are still used, with celebrations combining Christian and timeless Tarahumara symbolism. Below is San Alonzo de Arareko.
The Tarahumara walk up and down steep canyon paths and through widely scattered settlements.
The mother below set out her baskets near a roadside pull-out overlooking a reservoir called Arareko Lake.
Dawn and dusk create equally gorgeous light shows as the sun peaks over or dips toward the canyon rim.
Dawn and dusk create equally gorgeous light shows as the sun peaks over or dips toward the canyon rim.
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