Despite hail storms, tornadoes, and floods ...
federales, the gun-toting Mexican Army, and every
friggin' cop in the entire state of Chihuahua (that's not an exaggeration!) ... dust devils
that'd flat lift your ass out of the seat ... the mirror-hungry
Batopilas "Stairs From Hell" ... goats, cows, burros, and mad dogs around every corner ... dusky
senoritas scented in
peyote and
mescal offering the smoothest
tequila ever to pass human lips, free of charge!
... enough dust to choke out an Egyptian sandstorm ... unmarked
twisties that'd suck you in so fast your bike would be sideways before you could say "Oh shit!" ... vultures that refuse to yield up the roadway ... abandoned mines ... cheap, knobby-tossing, knock-off-brand tires ... and the completely unfathomable route from
Batopilas to
Urique, we four
gringos have returned from our adventures culturally enhanced with the ability to say "
por favor," "
muchos gracious," and "What the
fuck'd he say?" with the best of 'em.
Full ride report as soon as I catch my breath. Watch my
website or this blog. Trust me, you won't want to miss it!
Los gringos:
bahwolf, his own sexy self.
Chris of the fine GPS and beloved sheepskin.
Danny Septic Tank (missing from the bike in this photo -- d'oh!)
Rich of the Million-and-One Maps.
Labels: copper canyon, mexico, motorcycles
