I imagine, now that I am on the road to Urique, that it won’t be long before I get there but over fifty kilometres of steep unsurfaced road prove slow to negotiate. I spend the day climbing up and down steep hills, passing through a series of villages. After a particularly long steep climb I find myself, at dusk, looking for another place to camp on an anonymous mountain top with Urique nowhere in sight.
An abandoned car on the road to Urique.
A roadside shrine on an otherwise undistinguished hilltop.
The following morning I set off again on Christmas day hoping to arrive in Urique before nightfall and hoping that, since I had three days start, Cass and Jeff don’t pass me on the road before I get there. After yesterdays climb I can scarely believe that there is more to do today but it turns out to be the case and it is several hours before I arrive at a lookout where I can see Urique sitting along the river in the canyon far below.
Urique sits in the deepest canyon in North America. The town has been there since the mid-1600s, with road access only since 1975.
The road descends around 2000 metres in a crazy series of switch-backs over fourteen kilometres. It is not a ride for the faint-hearted. I take the descent easy, taking care to avoid the Christmas drunks roaring up the hill in the opposite direction in their pick-up trucks.
Glimpses of the road descending.
As I descend the climate changes. The pines and oak trees disappear and cactus and mesquite appear. Best not to think about getting out of here again...
Eventually, I find myself at the bottom of the canyon and manage to find my way to Entre Amigos, an organic eco-hostel, run by, Keith, an American old-timer who has been in Urique for thirty-five years with his Mexican wife.
Urique has a long history - this decrepit, but still elegant, shop clearly has been here a while.
A corn symbol on a shop front, covering a coca cola sign.
A drunk cowboy on the streets of Urique.
Post a Comment