On Friday, we woke up to Marcelo’s dogs scratching our Delica. They had come down the previous evening and, although we weren’t impressed that they had left their owner, we didn’t know what else to do but ignore them.
We had slept at 2,700 meters—too high for Chester. He barely slept, so we needed to find a lower place where he could rest properly. Topia lay lower in the canyon and was on our way toward the Pacific Coast, so we headed there.
The road was scenic and smooth at first, until the asphalt suddenly gave way to Swiss-cheese pavement. Our speed dropped to about 10 km/h. After the previous day’s 10 km hike (17 km for Chester) with 650 meters of elevation gain, the slow driving didn’t bother me.
At a police checkpoint, we were asked where we were going. “To the Pacífico,” I said. That answer seemed to satisfy them.
After hours of slow driving, we reached the canyon rim and caught our first view of Topia, the mining town below. The descent was spectacular, and so was the town itself. Chester had spotted it on the map and found a route—how lucky we were. It was a truly remarkable place.
We stopped at a small store, but with nothing tempting inside, we bought ice cream instead. A local woman noticed us eating and invited us into her living room so we could enjoy it in peace. Wow—this would never happen in Canada… or would it?
Walking through town later, a man handed us a strange fruit. It was chirimoya, and it was delicious. In Quechua language it means ‘cold seeds’. The plant likes higher altitudes, just like me 😄.
I’d never seen chirimoya before. When we took a photo, he gave us another—then another. “It’s the end of the season,” he said.
Soon after, Chester struck up a conversation with Hugo, the local English teacher. He invited us to his home for a shower and even offered to let us do our laundry. How can you not love Mexicans? They are just wonderful.
We asked Hugo about visiting Topia’s mine, and he immediately said he would try to arrange it. Wow!
On Saturday morning, since we still hadn’t heard from the mine about a possible visit, Hugo recommended hiking a mountain with a cross above the town. Chester and I drove up the stunning serpentines and reached a peak—though not the one with the cross.
It took longer than expected, and the only way to communicate with our host about the mine was from the car using Starlink, so we headed back.
Back at the car, we learned that Hugo still hadn’t heard from the mine manager. We decided to head out for the weekend and explore the area instead.
As we were driving, a truck pulled over beside us. That’s how we met Francisco, from Rancho Tío Juan, who invited us to follow them to the rancho and spend the day there. Since it was the road we planned to take anyway, we tagged along. We ended up meeting not only Francisco and his friends in the truck, but most of the men who live at the rancho. We also drunk Tecate Rojos in large quantities.
Francisco opened his home to us. Another unbelievably warm experience with Mexicans.
¡Viva México!
Sunday was a day of exploring. Our morning guide, Chris, drove ahead of us on a quad toward a mine. The roads here are steep, carved into the hills, and the canyon is deep—at least as deep as the Grand Canyon. The scenery was spectacular.
Because it was Sunday, the mine was closed. Still, a security guard came over and escorted us to the entrance of a small mine. We were told we could walk anywhere and take photos of anything. So we did—walking, exploring, and taking photos.
The road ended at the mine access. Chester flew his drone, we hiked a small peak, and fed salt to the cows and donkeys.
Another great day in a great country.
Marta and Chester's Maleficent Adventures 