Snow and Ice Tale – For those of you who think there is no snow in Mexico, this is definitely a tale for you.
We wake up to the sound of rain with distant rumbles of thunder in the background. Our windshield is covered with ice from freezing rain. No snow yet—until I jump out and head to the toilet.
On the way back, snow or rather graupel begins to fall. The ground slowly turns white. We are now in the fog. No views today. No drone shots.
It’s clear we’ll spend another day and night here. This is not an area to be brave; it’s an area to be careful. Black ice on these roads would be serious, and judging by how thickly ice coats our windshield and vegetation around us, we would most likely encounter it. The road is winding, steep in places, with drop-offs on the right side.
Today will be a day of catching up. We haven’t yet experienced the Delica for 24 hours straight—the comfort, or discomfort, it may bring. On the positive side, the Delica is infinitely more comfortable than a tent: so much room, many different sitting or lying positions, and all the electronics we carry with us—a laptop, a projector screen for movies (we’re currently binge-watching Season 8 of Alone), and Starlink, our connection to the world and our way to forecast when the weather might improve. Pure luxury, I would say—or puro lujo, in Spanish.
But Desigual has no heater, so we stay tucked under the covers, while Koliba—our EuroAsia vehicle—does. I would turn it on right now if I could. My feet never seem to warm up, so it doesn’t quite feel like pure luxury after all.
Still, we are in an amazing area. We’re back in the Sierra Madre Occidental at an elevation of about 2,650 meters. I like to compare it to Poland, where I’m from. We’re higher than Poland’s highest peak, Rysy (2,499 m), and almost exactly at the height of the tallest peak in the Tatra Mountains, Slovakia’s Gerlach (2,655 m). We end up staying here for nearly two days.
To get here, we followed spectacular roads. At times they run along ridgelines; at others, they cut into steep slopes, with lots of elevation gain and loss. This is pine country, and there are several different kinds of pines, clearly visible even to my untrained eye. Some have short needles, others long. Some needles point up, others down. Some grow in bundles of two, others in bundles of five. Mexico has 49 species of pine, the most in the world. Canada has 18, and Poland 3.
Apache pines have impressively long needles—up to 40 cm—longer than the Ponderosa pine needles we have in Canada. The pines create open spaces without underbrush to hike through. Bushwhacking here is pleasant, and the nasty, thorny vegetation is almost nonexistent.
Once the snow began to melt, we found ourselves in a perfect place to hike.
Sun Worshipping Tale – On Tuesday we woke up to the rising sun, which brought smiles to our faces.
In moments like this, I completely understand how people in the past worshipped the Sun—I would too. We waited until noon for the sun to melt or soften the snow and ice and for the roads to improve.
Once we left our secluded camping spot, just a few kilometers away we came across a large group of people—an ambulance, municipal police, and others. We stopped to learn what had happened. It turned out they were there in case there were accidents; there had been some the previous day. Emergency services were ready to jump in and help. What a fantastic display of preparedness—congratulations to the State of Durango!
Luckily, it was a quiet day. Instead, they built a snowman in their police truck. They told us to be careful on the road, but that we should be OK given our 4×4. We left convinced it was a good decision to stay put the previous day.
The road ended up being not bad after all, except for rare sections covered with slippery snow, which we drove with serious caution.
Since we were in a high area, Chester suggested hiking a couple of peaks over 2,800 meters. Unlike in the desert, here every forestry road was open to drive, and there were many to choose from. We picked a peak on Mapy.cz and boldly drove into the forest. We parked the Delica and headed for the mountain. The route was mostly a combination of forestry roads with a small amount of bushwhacking.
There were barbed-wire fences, just like in Canada. One even featured a 20-peso bill, so we added our own 20-peso bill (about CAD $1.50) and hope someone will find it one day.
The peak itself was uneventful—covered with rough, dense vegetation and no views. We ran out of time for a second peak. I still walk rather slowly and carefully, so instead we returned to camp, made a campfire, and enjoyed sausages.
Sawmill Tale – On Wednesday we woke up at 2,800 meters. It was not Mexican Tekate beer or Mexican grilled sausages that made Chester feel bad. It was the altitude. He did not appreciate sleeping so high. And that wasn’t even that high.
Snow was definitely melting fast, but at elevations over 2,800 meters it doesn’t get very warm, especially where the sun doesn’t reach the ground.
Mapy.cz showed mountains even over 2,900 meters, and one had a microwave tower. That meant a service road likely existed. These high peaks became our objective for the day, and the walk to reach them turned out to be one of my favourites so far. Hiking in pine–oak forests—what a treat. Nothing hard about it: easy progress, enjoyable views, beautiful vegetation and lots of quartz scattered on the road.
Once we were halfway to the second peak of the day, we saw even higher peaks nearby.
It turns out the density of contour lines on Mapy.cz makes it hard to spot higher terrain. Higher peaks was a great discovery, and we decided to find a way to reach them.
But first things first. We returned to the Delica and headed downhill to get milk…somewhere down the road. It ended up being over 25 kilometers, but through unbelievable scenery. The road traveled along the slopes of a spectacular canyon.
Once we finally made it to a small town, we invited ourselves for a tour of their sawmill. Check Chester’s blog for details: https://highismorebetter.ca/2026/01/18/mexico-part-6-cant-quit-the-mountains/
We find the endless kindness and friendliness of Mexicans truly amazing. A man at the sawmill stopped his work, asked how he could help us, and when he heard that we—random Canadians—wanted to see the sawmill operations, he took an hour out of his workday to show us around and explain everything. Wow. Mexicans—you simply rock!
In this little town, we met Valerie, a 14-year-old girl helping her father with accounting for his business. She was Mexican-American and spoke perfect English. We greatly enjoyed our conversation with her.
She recommended a camping spot in an ecological area, and we followed her advice. It was low in the canyon, which was good for Chester. It turned out to be a perfect spot and of course offered a daily dose of dogs.
Tale from 3000 meters – On Thursday we woke up deep in the canyon. It would take a long time for the sun to reach us, and we were cold. But we had a mission today: to reach the two mountains over 3,000 meters that we had spotted the previous day.
No trails were marked on our topo maps, and roads were not clearly visible on Google satellite imagery. Chester reverted to our “dynamite option”—flying the mighty Ikarus drone. And he found what he was looking for: most likely a road connection to the peaks. We also saw houses near the summit, below the microwave towers, so we headed out.
The road was longer than expected, and the upper sections were covered in slippery snow. I did not appreciate those sections at all.
As we approached the summit, we heard distressed mooing. Two cows appeared and followed us for a while after spotting us. Soon we emerged onto a summit covered with about a dozen microwave antennas. We were at 3,090 meters. And then—guess what—a puppy arrived, eager to play with Chester. Those amazing Mexican dogs are everywhere we go.
We heard Mexican music but saw no one around. We went to look for people near the houses. There were more cows, and then a big, beautiful dog came running to greet us. Finally, we saw a man carrying a bucket of potatoes. As it turned out, Marcello was living alone at over 3,000 meters with his two young dogs, several cows, chickens, and ducks. He grew potatoes and sold them down below.
We asked if it was OK to continue to the next peak, and he didn’t object. By the time we reached the summit, we had hiked over 8.6 km, and my feet were no longer happy—they wanted a rest. The final section to the peak was steep and forested, and I had to be very careful.
When we returned to Marcello’s house, Chester suggested he could go and fetch the Delica so I wouldn’t further strain my feet. And he did. I waited, petting the demanding dogs. Marcello mostly continued harvesting potatoes and feeding his animals. About 15 minutes before Chester returned, Marcello invited me into his home and offered coffee and a potato meal. He also gave me two small crosses he had made to protect us.
We didn’t stay long after Chester returned. The sun was setting, and with it the temperature would drop, turning the snowy sections icy. The road definitely required a 4×4.
Another amazing day in the Sierra Madre Occidental—and an unforgettable encounter with a Mexican man living solo at 3,000 meters. Thank you for your kindness, Marcelo!
Marta and Chester's Maleficent Adventures 