September 19th Parral to Creel
No major snags today though discovered last night after my frugal tea of bread and cheese, that the knife I bought while with Tas in New Jersey had disappeared. I think a casualty of my escapade with the bike. Lumps of cheese instead of slices, Granny Smith, and a shortbread biscuit. Yummy.
The 256 mile trip began well and I made good progress, a tank full of petrol and a gallon in reserve. On the open road I noticed a distinct difference from previous days, it was a mere 25 degrees and in my shirt I felt a little cold (maybe I'm acclimatising). The scenery was so like Bodmin Moor with small Tors and rolling countryside. I was determined to try and stick to my 70 mile stope routine but again it defeated me, it was nearly a 100 miles from Parral that I came across a petrol station - and a fine one it was to. I just bought a bottle of water as I'm fed up with diet coke and the full bodied variety I find doesn't  quench my thirst - never thought I'd find myself saying that. Although my thirst wasn't too great and my shirt and clothing not too damp. It felt like riding back home on a hot summers day. It felt nice.

The road I was travelling on was being upgraded and for a ten mile stretch it was a dirt road, the bike handled it beautifully, though the dust was unbelievable, especially when the juggernauts passed. One clown decided to overtake me and a lorry on a blind bend on a single lane stretch - I could not believe it and wanted to scream at him (like I would in England - wouldn't I kids?). But common sense got the better of me, he could be driving like that because he was Mafia!! (Should never have watched Breaking Bad).
The route took me north of where I was heading and then turned off the main road in a south easterly direction in the direction of Creel. Upon turning I was greeted with a strong side wind which made the bike difficult to handle, but in no time I was in the shelter of valleys and the most beautiful of landscapes - it reminded me of the Carpathian Mountains or even parts of the Pyrenees. The twisting, winding roads made a great change from the journeys of the last few days. It made me smile and I felt happy.
About 3.30pm I drove into Creel following SS and found my hotel hidden just off the main thoroughfare - I must admit the road and the hotel were really in the rough part of town. Inside the hotel was fine, basic but clean. After unpacking my bags I quickly set off to explore and almost immediately came across a swanky phone shop where I bought the cheapest phone possible with a $9 SIM CARD all for £22. This will serve me well through the next part of my journey as I can pack my iPhone away and only use in the hotel when needed. I can now phone hotels and the tyre people without incurring massive charges, but more importantly it will be 100% easier. The people there directed me to Veronica's which was the best eating establishment in the town and do you know what they were right, very tasty Chilli and two beers all  for £6. To get there I had walked through back alleys, across disused train tracks and found myself in the mainstreet. This was like stepping into wonderland - it was everything the rest of the town wasn't. Clean, lively and a slightly faded air of affluence. Creel apparently used to be the Queenstown of Mexico with American tourist -  a place to bungee jump, raft and all manner of adventurous activities. That all ended in 2009 when Hillary declared it unsafe for US tourist (she's not popular here). There had been a number of killings and kidnappings which prompted this decision. It's a pity because the way out of crime and the drug culture is to provide hope through work for the good people. You can see the poverty everywhere and as in so many places around the world it is the indigenous peoples who suffer most from the decisions of the rich.
This is one of the reasons I wanted to come here, the devil in me wanted to fight back against the perceived wisdom which said 'Be careful it's a dangerous place'. I also think that those sentiments are tinged with racist overtones. I know people have been killed and kidnapped, but would you not go to Minnesota, New York, Boston after what happened there. The place is a little run down, but it has charm and the people are friendly and it has a good feel.
Anyway off my soap box now and back to the present; I managed to find a guide to take me into Copper Canyon tomorrow and spend the night under canvas. It's an early start and a bit of a trek in, but I'm really looking forward to using my legs having sat on a motorbike for 2 weeks solid. I'm also longing for a night in a tent under the stars (hope it doesn't rain). It costs me £75 but worth every penny. My Hotel room which I booked for 2 nights is vacant if you know anyone who wants to use it? When I leave Creel in two days time I'm heading to Guachochi where most of the Raramuri Tribe are centred. These people are famed for their running ability and annually run a 100km race that takes in the Copper Canyon. You runners may recognise their name as they are the focus of the book 'Born to Run', though in that book they are referred to as Taratuma, which is the name the Spaniards gave them!
Finally a funny thought, I've been reading about this State I'm now in for the past few days and I never really made the connection between it and a very small dog. It is probably because I've been mispronouncing the name Chihuahua - in my mind I've been saying Chee - whoer- whoer and not Chee - wow - wa. My job tomorrow will be to ask Enrique how it is pronounced. He doesn't speak a lot of English so should be a challenge for us both!

Sorry no pictures today, I thought they would look tame next to the ones I'll post in the next few days - though the surrounding countryside is beautiful