A.J. had been bugging me for some time to go with him down to the Sierra Madre in the state of Sonora, Mexico and bag some big peaks that were high on his list of things to do. Since we had had a few successful adventures in Mexico in the last few years, it seemed like a reasonable thing to do. I mean, after all, what could go wrong? So, on Saturday, April 14, 2007 he arrived at my house just after 4:30 a.m. He parked his car and we loaded everything that we’d need for two very full days into my Toyota truck, including plenty of adult beverages. Away we went, driving east into the dawn. It was close to 7:00 a.m. by the time we had crossed into Mexico at Agua Prieta, Sonora. We stopped at the border and went into a Mexican government office where, after a 1 1/2-hour wait in line, we obtained a 180-day, multiple-entry permit for my truck. I also purchased a 180-day personal visa. A.J. decided that he would roll the dice and not get one and save some bucks. I sure hoped that nobody would ask us for these visas, because if A.J. didn’t have one, he’d either have to go right back to the U.S., or get a visa somewhere, or worse. Anyway, that done, we drove south for about 15 miles to a customs checkpoint at the side of the main highway. After convincing them that we had no guns, ammunition or drugs, and that we were not carrying more than US$10,000.00 in cash, they waved us on through. Luckily, they didn’t ask us for our personal visas, only checking that the vehicle had the proper tags. We continued south on the paved highway, passing through the towns of Fronteras and Esqueda. Almost 60 miles south of the US border, we were getting close to the town of Nacozari. We had a good view to the west up to the high country, towards our first goal, the high point of the Sierra Purica.
A.J. had determined that a good dirt road should leave the pavement and head up to the high country. We found the start of the road alright, exactly where the Mexican topo map showed it to be, but the problem was that it had a massive locked gate not 50 feet off of the pavement, stopping us dead in our tracks. Disappointed that we couldn’t just drive on through, we climbed over the gate and walked 1/4 mile to a ranch house, where we spoke to a lady and asked her if we could drive their road. She gave us the runaround so we left, reverting to Plan B. We drove a few miles farther along the highway to another road A.J. had scoped out on the map. It too was locked, but it was merely a wire gate, not a huge steel affair like the earlier one. A.J. is the grand master of working with barbed wire, so, in plain view of passing traffic, he unraveled the wire and pulled the entire gate aside, lock and all, and I drove through. Then he re-attached the wire to make it look like nothing had happened and away we went. We drove up a canyon through some pleasant oak groves and then climbed up and on to a broad ridge.
After a few miles, we came to another locked gate which we could not bypass, so we back-tracked a bit and climbed up a steep hill in four-wheel-drive, passing around the gate and its accompanying fence. The old road we were now on was soon blocked by another locked gate on a narrow ridge, gate number 4 for the day. A.J. did a masterful job of unraveling the fence off to the side of this gate, and we drove through a narrow opening on a steep sidehill, just barely getting through. On we went, passing through four more gates which were not locked. The dirt road was very steep in spots, forcing us to climb it in the lowest gear in low range in 4wd. High up on the mountain, we passed a sign which indicated we were entering the Ajos-Bavispe National Forest and Wildlife Refuge. This was exciting to see, as we didn’t even know that such protected areas existed in Mexico, certainly a country where such vulnerable places have long been under attack.
Finally, at around noon, we drove up on to the highest knoll of the Sierra Purica. Amazingly, we had driven up about 4,000 vertical feet from the highway. There were many well-maintained radio towers on the three bumps which formed the highest area of this range. We parked at the highest point of all, which our GPS units said was 8,105 feet above sea level. Large pine trees covered the ridge top, and a cool breeze was blowing. This was such a beautiful alpine oasis.
We enjoyed a leisurely lunch, and left a register on the highest place beside a small building at the base of one of the radio towners. The view was terrific.
One month later, something very dramatic happened which terrified the residents of this area. Cananea, an old mining town in northern Sonora state with a population of about 32,000 souls, lies a mere 15 miles from the U.S. border, along Mexican Highway 2. Just after midnight on May 16, a convoy of 15 camouflage-painted Humvees stopped in Cuitaca, a small town ten miles west of Cananea, and kidnapped two policemen. The convoy continued on to Cananea and hijacked a group of patrol cars carrying five municipal policemen who were ambushed after responding to an anonymous telephone report of an altercation. This 50-man hit squad then kidnapped three innocent civilians. The bodies of four of the kidnapped policemen were found some hours later in a park outside the city – they had been brutally murdered. The two officers from Cuitaca were found alive but badly beaten. Reinforcements were called in, and army troops and policemen pursued the gunmen southward. A police helicopter tracked the group to a mountain hideout. In the running gun battle that occurred, five law enforcement officers were killed, along with fifteen members of the drug gang who were identified as Zetas, former elite Mexican army soldiers. The three civilians and a police officer who had been kidnapped earlier were rescued in the gunfight. It is believed that those killed in Cananea had betrayed an agreement with a drug cartel. The convoy had traveled 150 miles in plain sight of Mexican federal police who regularly patrol the highway between Caborca and Cananea. It is felt that they were members of the Sinaloa drug cartel. What startled me was that this major gun battle took place near the town of Arizpe, only ten miles downhill to the west from where we ate our lunch on this idyllic mountain top.
Soon we headed down, driving through all of the gates much more quickly than when we went up. A.J. did his magic on the gate by the paved highway so we could get back out, and, Bob’s your uncle, it was done, with nobody the wiser. No damage was done and we had our summit. I look at it this way – we didn’t litter, didn’t shoot up anything and left no trace of our passage. Certainly, we had a far smaller impact on the mountain than all of the towers and buildings on its summit.
All day long, as we had driven south from the border, we had glimpses of a huge smokestack in the distance. Coming down the mountain, we could see it to advantage, and later learned that it was an impressive 919 feet tall.
A few miles farther south, the highway took us to the decent-sized mining town of Nacozari. Actually, the proper name of this town is Nacozari de Garcia. and this is a link to the fascinating story of how this town got its name. It would have been great to have stopped for a cold Pacífico in this picturesque mountain town, but we didn’t. Nope, had to get to the next mountain! The highway took us five miles farther south and, in a canyon bottom, we found the turnoff we were looking for, another dirt road. It took us across a small river and continued east into the mountains for perhaps ten miles, gaining elevation all the while.
By mid-afternoon we arrived at the mountain hamlet of Santo Domingo, at about 4,600 feet elevation. There are five families living there today, down from the 200 or so thirty years ago when their mine was still open.
A.J. was navigating, and he had me drive off the main dirt road and up a lesser one, which ended by a small house. A man came out and told us that the road didn’t go anywhere. While talking to him, we saw another road nearby with a serious locked metal gate across it. After we showed him on our map where we wanted to go, he confirmed that the road with the gate was indeed the road we needed to take to get to our mountain.
He then told us that his brother had the key to that gate, but unfortunately he had gone into Nacozari and wouldn’t be back for another couple of hours. The only way we could pass through the gate would be to wait, and, when he returned, we could ask his permission to continue. My guess is that he was hoping that we would lose interest and bugger off right then and there. We had a decision to make – play the game, stick around, wait and call his bluff, or just leave and maybe try to get to the mountain some other way. The latter option was a long shot and problematic, with little chance of getting close to our peak. So wait we did. I offered this fellow a cold beer from our cooler, which he gladly accepted, and we had one too. He then invited us to sit on some rocks under a shady tree to pass the time more comfortably. I’m not sure how we got on to the subject, but before long we were discussing the war in Iraq. He became quite vocal on the fallacy of the war, the stupidity of Bush and several other such topics. He said that we were all members of the human race, and that because we were all part of the brotherhood of man, we all needed to get along. This serious discussion, which all took place in Spanish, showed him that we had much in common, and that, perhaps, these yanquis weren’t so bad after all. As I recall, we had already assured him that we had no guns and were not about to leave any trash or vandalize his property. He excused himself and went into his house, we thought probably to take a leak. However, he returned within a few minutes, key in hand, with which he promptly unlocked the gate. What a nice surprise! He wished us well as we drove on through. I guess he was testing us, trying to ascertain if we were up to no good. He certainly didn’t have to let us through the gate, as he was holding all the cards. This was just one of the many random acts of kindness perpetrated on us by Mexican folk we met.
Once we left his house, the dirt road climbed slowly and steadily up into the Sierra la Juriquipa. At times, we crawled along in our lowest gear in 4wd up some very steep places.
I think we passed through a total of four gates, the last one of which was locked. Once again, A.J. performed his wizardry so we could pass through. There was an interesting sign by this gate, which indicated that we were entering the Oregano Ranch, and that hunting was prohibited.
Shortly afterwards, we arrived at a saddle on the southwest ridge of the range high point. We were at 5,915′ elevation. It was a perfect afternoon, and I was thinking what a great camping spot this would make and how good a cold beer would taste, sitting by a nice campfire, when A.J. said “Let’s go for the summit”. Sweet Fancy Moses!!! “Now?”, I asked. “But it’s so late, why don’t we relax and enjoy this terrific campsite and climb it first thing in the morning when it’s nice and cool”. I don’t know how he talked me into it, but before you knew it we were lacing up our boots and shouldering our packs. It was 4:41 p.m. when we left the truck. I was muttering under my breath, wondering how I let myself get talked into doing something like that, starting out so late in the day, when I could be stirring a fire and sucking down a Boston Lager.
Up we went, following the ridge, crossing over several small bumps en route. Fortunately, the forest was fairly open, bushwhacking was minimal and we made good time. We were on the 7,185′ summit by 5:51 p.m. – not bad for a couple of old guys. We left a register in a box on one of the radio towers, then started down quickly – no time to stick around and enjoy the view. I do remember seeing a wild turkey during the otherwise-uneventful descent. We were back at camp by 6:34 p.m., just before sunset. It was a nice starry evening, not cold and no breeze. A.J. didn’t feel like drinking beer but I had a couple. For some reason, we didn’t have a campfire, just sat in the dark and talked about, what else, climbing. Even so, we retired by 8:30. It had been a good day – we had bagged two 2,000′-prominence peaks with minimal effort. Little did we know what an ordeal tomorrow would turn out to be. Stay tuned for the rest of the story.
To be continued ……………………
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