Creel

Before I get to the pictures, I need to talk about something important: responsible tourism. This is a broad topic but relates to my stay in Creel in a very specific way. Namely, respecting the human dignity of the people you visit.

It is impossible to escape the fact that one of the primary draws of La Barranca del Cobre beyond its scenary is its people. The Tarahumara (or Rarámuri) once inhabited much of the state of Chihuahua but retreated to La Barranca del Cobre upon the arrival of the Spanish. Current estimates put their population between 50,000 and 70,000, nearly all of whom maintain a fairly traditional lifestyle based on farming and livestock. They are famed for their long distance running abilities, with ball kicking relay races sometimes lasting days (envision running multiple marathons in stages while kicking a wooden soccer ball). Their women are known for their brightly colored style of dress.

Yes, I took their picture. But I did it sureptitiously and I felt bad
about it afterward.

They are also, by and large, extremely poor. For anyone that has not traveled outside the U.S. it can be shocking. No matter how much one travels, it is always saddening.

But what to do? In theory, my very presence as a tourist in their land improves their lives. Paying for my accomodations, food, internet, etc. introduces much needed hard currency into the local economy. Better still is to ensure that I book accomodations and guides through locally run organizations. But that's not much comfort. Do I buy their arts and crafts? Perhaps, but my backpack is already too heavy, and I'm only just beginning my travels. Do I give alms directly? Perhaps, but their need dwarfs my ability to give.

In the end, all I think I can really do is try to respect them as human beings. I learn about their history and culture. I don't take their picture as though they are exotic beasts in a zoo. I see how they live and try to learn from it, try to be more grateful for what I have. Try to be a better person for it.

And I'm still looking for a way to help. If not the Tarahumara themselves then another people like them. For there are, unfortunately, many, many more like them.

And now, the pictures.

This church is yellow.


This church is old (the two are kitty-corner).


I rented a mountain bike and went for a ride. It is a popular route and maps were provided. Here we see the arrival of the car-bourne tourists following my same route.


The first object of interest is a "cave" dwelling (more of an overhang, really). They wall up the lower 4 or 5 feet, leaving a small chink for smoke to escape. One of my fellow tourists (he was on the car tour; prat) remarked: "I don't suppose they actually live there.. it's just for us tourists." I don't know about that particular cave, but I saw one just like it at the end of the day that was quite clearly actively occupied. It looks to be a cold, smoky existence.


Next stop on the tour, "Valle de los Hongos." I see the mushrooms, sure. In the foreground, a Tarahumara woman selling crafts. This would prove a recurring theme.


More mushrooms.


Proof that I personally walked among the stone mushrooms. In the distance, the Mission and school.


Valle de las Ranas (Frogs). It wasn't much of a valley, per se, but I'll be damned if that doesn't look like a frog.


The Mission.


I couldn't decide which view I liked best, so you get both.


The Mission door. I like old doors. This will become more evident in the near future.


There were birds in the belfry.


Mission interior. Guess you can talk to god standing just as well as sitting.


Next stop: Valle de las Monjes (Monks), though supposedly the locals had (have?) a more colorful name for it. In the foreground: Tom. He's Belgian and was riding the same route as I.


Valley of the Hard-ons, they call it. All I can say is that I don't really see monks. That bright thing in the lower right is an amphitheather, for staging traditional dances, I would imagine. We saw no one else in the valley, though.


More erect pe... monks. Standing monks. Yeah, that's the ticket.

In all seriousness, it is an eerily beautiful place. The otherwise ever-present wind completely died within the confines of the valley, making even little sounds startlingly clear. Definitely the sort of place I would pick for a peyote-fueled trance (yeah, the Tarahumara are down with the Peyote).


For a sense of scale, that's Ben in the shade just to the left. He's not a tall man, but still. Those are big rocks.


Next stop, Lake Arareko. It was alright, I guess, for a lake.


To illustrate the climate, an icefall. It warmed up a bit the day I was riding about, but the day I arrived it was 35 degrees at best. In the direct sunlight. And there were still numerous patches of snow on shady, north facing slopes. And at night? Don't get me started. So cold.

Also, the occupied cave/overhang is perhaps 500 yards down from this icefall, in the same cliff. Like I said: a cold, smoky existence.