The Devil's Backbone

Warning:  Content change in progress.  The paragraphs to follow contain not a whit of nautical reference but are land based in content.  If you want to read about boats or boating I suggest you follow the links here and here.  Otherwise, proceed with caution.

The Osuna Clan, heavy drinkers all.

Sixteen days living twelve feet above the concrete sea of the Fonatur yard start to take their toll on captain and crew.  Mutinies were at hand and the captain agreed to some inland exploration by car.  We started with a road trip out to the Los Osuna distillery where they convert the famous blue agave plant into a fine Tequilla like liquor.  We took Highway 15 (Libre is the free road) north of town to the 11Km marker and turned right, running the gauntlet of soldiers monitoring the smuggling route to Culican.  Then we left the seaside lowlands and climbed into the low hills.  At 14 Km we turned down a dirt road leading to the Osuna distillery.

My beautiful wife sampling the Reposado

Luis Daniel Limon Haro guided us around the small complex where the Osuna family have been brewing the blue agave for 130 years.  They don’t call it Tequila because the distillery is in the Mexican state of Sinaola and not Jalisco.  If the plant is in Jalisco it is Tequilla. If the plant is in any other state of Mexico it cannot be called Tequilla.  This is much like the word “Champagne.”  The heart of the agave plant, looking much like a huge artichoke heart, is chopped out and tossed into a below ground, rock lined, roaster.  This underground pot can hold hundreds of agave hearts. After roasting, the mix is fermented and distilled twice before going into the bottle (Blanco) or the oak casks (Madero, Reposado 11 months, or very fine Anejo, 18 months) .  We tasted the Madero.  Curiously, the Anejo cannot be purchased in Mexico as this top-of-the-line liquor is only sold in the United States. 

Luis showed us how to savor the flavor using a brandy snifter.  Then later, shaded by a huge Huaxacocle tree, we sipped the blue agave, taking shot after shot till Connie and Ezrah got just a little too high.  We bought a bottle of the Reposado for further sampling later.  Ezrah climbed a tree then we drove home.  As promised, the 100 percent blue agave left no hangover or ill effects as Connie and Ezrah testified to later. 

Note the alcohol legs

As Ezrah was really jones’n to get up into some more hills before his flight on Monday, we started planning another trip.  Let’s see, we can go north towards Culican for a flat hot trip, or head south toward Tepic for a different flat, hot trip, or we can head east up into the mountains toward Durango where it will be cooler.  I started doing investigation on the internet about the mountainous area serviced by highway 40 .  I came up with nothing.  No references to hiking, camping, hot springs, hotels, etc..  Curious.  I could tell it was some beautiful mountain country but no tourist attractions could I find.

On my second attempt the next evening I found references to a road named the Devil’s Backbone or in Spanish,  El espinazo del diablo.  This twisty winding road goes 2400 meters high over some serious terrain.  Highway 40 is the only road between Mazatlan and the city of Durango, that is until recently when the federal government decided to dump 20 billion pesos into an amazing feat of construction that will cut the drive time between Mazatlan and Durango by six hours.  And it will cut out the Devils Backbone route for those who want to go fast.  But the route is unfinished and we had the pleasure of driving this crazy old route up and over the Sierra Madre Occidental mountain chain.

Lunchtime roadside with small monument.

We left in the early morning and found our way out to highway 40.  One of the first things we noticed was the large number of roadside memorial markers honoring people who died in accidents.  It seemed that every significant curve had one or two deaths to mark the way. 

Large roadside monument

Some of the monuments were small some, monumental.  As the only highway connecting the coast with the interior in this area, there was plenty of trucking running down the highway.  With the hairpin turns the big tractor trailers had a hard time of it.  And so there are many signs saying, “Busque vehículos invadiendo su carri” or Look for vehicles invading your lane.   And invade they did.  On turns we’d slow down, get way to the right and watch for trucks.  All of a sudden there would be one and he’d be half way into our lane!  We’d put a wheel in the gravel and come to a halt, waving to the driver as he muscled his rig around the sharp turn with his cab way to his right and his back trailer tire inches from our driver’s side mirror.  We called these guys the Lane invaders. 

Lane Invader

Pulling over for a break we looked 15 miles across the canyon and saw the new highway, a series of tunnels connected with a series of bridges.  Draw a straight line through this amazing terrain and that’s what it will be, tunnel, bridge, tunnel, bridge.  One of these bridges is a suspension bridge 403 meters or 1,322 feet tall. This, the Baluarte Bicentennial Bridge, will be the second tallest suspension bridge on the planet.  When doing my research on this area I kept coming across U.S. State department warnings about this area of the country, citing drug gang activity. 

The new highway with suspension bridge.

Evidently sometimes at night the bad guys throw up impromptu road blocks on the highway to extort money from travelers.  The country is extremely rugged and mountainous making it difficult for the Federales to keep a presence there.  In addition, when we found Mexican press releases about the new highway they noted that a prime benefit of the road is that it will open up the state of Durango to safer, economic development, fighting drug activity with economic growth.  And this is where we were headed. At least it was daytime and a little bit safer than at night. 

The mountains of the Sierra Madre Occidental

Our cabin

We made our way six hours into the mountains traversing the Devil’s Backbone and popping out on top of a pine wooded plateau at 2,580 meters (8,465 feet) above sea level and into the little town of El Salto.  I had found a single reference to one hotel in town and some cabins just outside of town so we went in search of the cabins.  Driving through El Salto the place looked a little rough as is to be expected for a town reliant on logging and a resident military base.  We saw lots of guys in pickup trucks.  We drove through the narrow streets of the town center then turned east towards mile marker 86 where we found an old gate at Paraiso de la Sierra Madres.   A young boy opened the old iron gate and motioned us through.  We asked about cabins and he pointed down towards the end of a dusty road. 

Gas for the stove

A long time ago someone turned this little valley into a development of small resort homes.  Rustic A-Frame houses and adobe block structures stood on large lots.  Making our way to the road’s end we crossed a dry dike and saw some cabins.  After we pulled up, the caretaker came out with his tool belt on and motioned us to one of the cabins.  We struck a deal that Connie and Ezrah thought was too dear but I was just relieved to find a safe and quiet place to spend the night.  After a rest and a short hike we drove back to town to buy some drinking water and have a meal. 

El Salto - not a tourist town

We found a place in town where we had some whole fried fish and talked to the young man serving us about hiking and hot springs.  He offered to take us to the hot springs but it would have to be at night. The deal got too complicated and we didn’t want to drive at night.  Everyone we met said not to drive at night.  So we tipped the guy and left. On the way to the car a middle aged man in a pickup shouted some harsh words to us which I didn’t understand and we realized that everyone was just staring at us. No smiles, just stares.  And when we drove by the little hotel, the only hotel in town, the road was full of pickup trucks with guys sitting in the back drinking beer and glaring at us.  At this time I got a case of what I call the “I gotta get outta here’s.”  I guess we stood out, a tall thin woman in short shorts, a young man with long curly hair, and a tall funny looking gringo with a pony tail and nylon shorts.

Ezrah next to his fire

We were glad we had the place in the country that evening and really enjoyed making a fire in the fireplace and reveling in the cool mountain air.  I slept like crap, probably because we were at 8500 feet and because I had a cold coming on strong.  The next day we drove back to Mazatlan, watching for the lane invaders, stopping along the way for a little hike and arriving on the coast to the 90 degree heat of the lowlands and the late afternoon traffic.  We collapsed aboard Traveler, glad to be home but sad that we’d be losing Ezrah in two day’s time.

Connie next to Ezrah's fire

Lessons learned?  Just because the topography on the map looks wonderful does not mean that it is a place for tourists, or hiking, or for strange gringos to enjoy the countryside like a walk in the park. 

Big nose... big feet.

Postscript# 1 :  Ezrah flew back to the rat race of Olympia and is presently road tripping across the U.S.A. with his father and sister to visit grandparents in Michigan.  He’s wearing a Mexican serape and has a bottle of Muy Picante hot sauce in his backpack.

The one who knows all

Postscript# 2 :  Connie and Scott, in the face of 90 degree heat and a four week wait for parts, etc. are planning a road trip to the states starting next week.  We’ll be visiting family in Arizona, Tennessee, and Illinois and stopping by to see friends wherever we can find them along the way.  In a month or so, we’ll come back to Mazatlan to re- launch our fully functional sailing vessel into the 100 degree mosquito infested waters of the Mazatlan estuary and marina complex.  Please come join us. No, Just kidding.  We’ll batten down the hatches, double tie the mooring lines, then head by car to the Pacific Northwest to bask in the welcoming bosoms of our friends and followers.  Come fall it is Pacific Mexico, part duex.