The Adventure Begins: Days 1-5. Tijuana, Mexicali, San Luis Rio Colorado, Sonoyta, Santa Ana, Hermosillo, Yecora, San Pedro, Creel

Day 2 Part 1: The End Justified the Day

It was a perfect day.... the end justified the means, or All's Well That Ended Well.

I slept for about 6 hours, climbed out of bed and noticed the label on my mattress said Marriott. Pre-owned Marriott mattresses ended up at Hotel Del Norte, Mexicali.

I was up before 7 a.m. Breakfast: huevos rancheros, coffee and fresh squeezed orange juice served in a king sized goblet.

After breakfast I took a walk around the old town. It was commonly referred to as Chinesca. That's Mexicali for Chinatown. Signs were written in Chinese and Spanish. Restaurant Mexicali Rose served Comida China (Chinese Food). There were Chinese pharmacies, restaurants, shops, herbal medicines, and a China Association founded in 1919.

I asked a man on the street in front of a pharmacy about the China connection. He told me the local history: poor Cantonese immigrants sought land and opportunity in Mexico. He said the first Chinese came as canal builders for the Colorado River Land Company. I told the man that railroads brought Chinese laborers to California and it was interesting to hear Mexicali's history.

He added "The Legend of the Caves." "It's claimed," he said, "that there were so many Chinese that they lived in underground caves and had to dig even larger caves to keep up with population growth. Then one day they broke their way out to the surface and appeared in Mexicali." The story sounded like the reverse of the tale told to kids, "If you dig a hole straight down, you'll dig a hole to China."

Then at 8:30 a.m. I turned a 1-hour trip into a 2-hour ride.

In the morning, on my walk, I had passed the ABC Bus Company downtown. So instead of taking a taxi back to the Central Terminal, I went over to ABC.

That's where the conversation got confused. The counter clerk was telling me they didn't have service to the Central Terminal, and I'd have to walk a few blocks to catch a city bus. At least that's what I thought. But just as I was about to follow his directions, a lady spoke up. She said with concern and kindness, "I'll show you where the Central is. It's only a few blocks from my stop."

She told me to buy the ticket and when she got off she'd point me in the right direction. Now I felt confused, but this is an adventure, and I had an escort.

I bought a ticket to San Luis Rio Colorado, which I thought was just the name of a neighborhood on the outer limits of Mexicali. But when the price was $3 instead of under a dollar, I should have asked a couple more questions.

What had happened was that since I was in the ABC station where you catch the bus to San Luis Rio Colorado, 40 miles from Mexicali, the lady assumed I was asking about SLRC's Central, not Mexicali's. I was on the bus and gawking out the window, stopping frequently, as I put the puzzle together. I sat across from Juana my escort and she told me that ABC takes 2 hours instead of 1 due to frequent stops.

So there I was on the "stop and pickup," but adventurous, bus to SLRC.

Juana lived in L.A. She came to the U.S. in 1983. She was a great-grandmother in her fifties. I asked, "What was your first job in L.A.?" "Packed pickles in a factory," she told me. Now she baby-sits. She's tried to learn English and memorized words. She said, "Grammar is difficult." I told her about my friend Don Beaver who had a similar problem in trying to learn Spanish.

Although I took the wrong bus, I was entertained. I looked over the outstretched city, stop by stop. There were vast islands of wrecked cars. "This must be auto dismantlers' heaven," I said to myself.

The bus stopped, a young college student boarded and sat in the row ahead of me. She was as slender and attractive as Audrey Hepburn in "Breakfast at Tiffany's." She had smooth, soft, mocha colored skin, narrow lips and nose. Her dark eyes were so bright that I recalled washing and waxing my grandpa's black Cadillac in the sun. Grandpa never owned a house, but always owned a luxury car. As the bus went around a curve sunlight struck her black hair, which she must have tint-rinsed. Her hair sparkled red in the sun. She was eager to study and promptly opened her text with a picture of B.F. Skinner. I asked her, "Are you studying psychology?" She was nice, but only smiled and said "Yes." B.F. Skinner was more interesting than an old gringo, even if I could be a good subject to psychoanalyze.

We neared the end of the 2-hour ride. Juana pointed out Rio Colorado. As the bus crossed the bridge we looked over the railing at the Rio Colorado. It was pure white sand, looking more like a beach than a river. We turned into the city, passed small, one-story bungalows, neatly cared for, gated and fenced, painted in whites, pinks, blues and aqua greens, and adorned with red bougainvilleas.

The bus pulled over and stopped on the main street. A car honked. No one paid attention. Juana picked up her shopping bag. I followed. We got off the bus in downtown San Luis Rio Colorado. That ended the first of my three bus trips for the day.

Day 2 Part 2: Victor Tornero, Boxer

Arriving in San Luis Rio Colorado, I thanked Juana, then followed her directions to the Central, walked about 6 blocks and checked in at the Central Bus station. Buses were frequent. One left every half hour. So far my belief that there's a convenient bus to everywhere in Mexico from everywhere in Mexico proved true.

I caught the Interestales bus for Sonoyta.

The long day was filled with desert views and videos on TV. The driver played two bad movies. A teenage fantasy romance about the trials of the U.S. President's daughter who yearned for a private social life, kind of an up-date to Roman Holiday without the class. It was followed by a poltergeist horror film that dragged on and on but pulled a laugh out of me for its special effects and terror excess. I felt great about people being scared to death.

As we entered Sonoyta there was a statue in the traffic circle where two highways met. It was dedicated to President Plutarco Calles. He founded the PRI political party that governed Mexico from the 1929 to 2000, until PAN's Vicente Fox broke PRI's grip and was elected President of Mexico.

General Calles defeated Pancho Villa at the battle of Agua Prieta. He was President of Mexico from 1924 to 1928, and was Mexico's strong man until his hand-picked successor Lazaro Cardenas became President, took control and put his own people in power.

Perhaps Calles was born or raised here, but Sonoyta was not really a city. It was a linear town stretched along two intersecting highways and offered nothing attractive except the monumental house on the hill that overlooked and overshadowed Calles' statue.

The house would stand out in any setting. I asked a fellow at a taco stand, "Who owns the house that looks like a hotel on the mountain?" He said, "That's Salcido." "How did he get so rich?" I asked. "Pemex, and money exchange and parts distribution and trucking."

I had vegetable soup and a beer for lunch at The Steakhouse. Still curious I asked the cashier about the Salcido Family. Mario Salcido was mayor of Sonoyta 1994-97 (could be the connection that got him the Pemex franchise, or visa versa). He built a business empire, died and his son was showing off the family wealth.

In an hour I had seen Sonoyta. I walked back to Bus Central in Sonoyta for the last leg of the day's trip. It was another 3 hours to Santa Ana where I spent the night at the Hotel Posada for $25 and working air conditioning.

During the day, the bus followed the Ruta de las Misiones, past Caborca and Altar. Along the main street in Altar, backpacks hung from every stall and storefront like bunches of grapes ready to harvest. Altar was the staging area for young men going north. From here, it was a desert trek and there was a history of tragedy.

A young man sat across the aisle from me on this last leg. His shoulders filled out a black T-shirt with a cartoon caricature figure on the front. Under the cartoon, printed in red, was the word Ramcid. We spoke and he introduced himself, Victor Tornero, a welterweight boxer on his way to his sister's wedding in Guanajuato. Victor was a friendly guy with a ready smile. It was hard to believe he was a guy that wanted to put you down and out. He trained in Phoenix. He wrote down, web site: www.tony @ box. He's had 12 amateur fights and 3 professional, won them all, most by knockouts. He enjoyed speaking about his victories. He surged with joy when he spoke about knocking out an opponent.

He was a good looking guy, reminded me of Oscar de la Hoya, such a handsome, unmarked face. When we stopped, I asked if I could take his picture in front of the bus to prove, when he's famous, that we bused through Sonora, Mexico together.

Victor stood up against the bus. He clutched his fists to his chest showing off the hammers that could strike an opponent and send him into unconsciousness.

It was dark when the bus pulled in to Santa Ana. I looked for a hotel. Victor continued on his way to his sister's wedding. He'd be traveling all night.

Hotel Posada was catty-corner from the terminal and I checked in. I took a walk to shake off the bus ride. An Internet Café was open, but I ate supper first and while I was eating the cyber café closed.

I walked down the long main street. Major businesses were truck stops and motels. At a rival's hotel, with a large lighted lobby, I saw a courtesy computer, email for guests. I asked the security guard's permission. He was kind and said I was welcome to check my email.

It really was a long day on the bus, but as I had cut the trip into three slices, it digested well.

I had looked over Hotel Posada before I took the room. All checked out: clean, neat, and attractive, if modest. There was a bathroom shelf for my toiletries and a non-sag mattress (nothing bends when it's on a cement slab). It was a quiet room, isolated, connected by a labyrinth of hallways. There was air conditioning and a reading lamp over the bed. But I never thought about the east-facing room, thin curtain and yellow glare from the morning's rising sun.

From 5-6 a.m. I slept with the pillow over my head.

Tomorrow I'll reach Hermosillo, a major city, and the last stop before I head for the Copper Canyon, if I can get there on the bus.

Expenses: Hotel $25, meals $20, buses $34, miscellaneous $2. Total: $81.

Day 3: Arrival in Hermosillo and a Surprise

Morning: Breakfast at Tito's:

I was Tito's first customer at 7 a.m. The restaurant looked new and I ordered without glancing at the menu. In Mexico, if they have it, the cook will make it. Someone will figure out a price. I ordered, "Mexican eggs (scrambled with chili, onion, diced tomatoes), orange juice, and coffee."

The cook brought out a jar of Nescafe, a spoon and hot water in a mug, and then returned to the kitchen. In a few minutes I was served a hot plate of scrambled eggs, corn tortillas, French fries, crisp lettuce-carrot salad, re-fried beans, a pint of fresh squeezed orange juice, tortilla chips with salsa and my coffee. My short order had gained in translation. I sampled everything, complimented the cook, "Muy rica, muy sabrosa," and paid the bill: 57 pesos ($5.25).

I bought a ticket from Santa Ana to Hermosillo 80 peso ($7.20), a short 2-hour ride.

From Tijuana to Sonoyta we had followed the U.S.-Mexican border, often looking over security fences. We stopped at a number of checkpoints and even exited the bus, removed suitcases and went through a luggage inspection.

I asked what they were looking for, as there were no dogs sniffing for drugs and no metal detectors for arms. A security officer told me, "Contraband merchandise that Mexicans bring home without paying taxes." This meant items purchased in the U.S. but made in China.

Bus Commentary:

Buses are comfortable and schedules convenient. You can pick a bus on this route, every half hour. But you won't get peace and quiet. Standard procedure is for the driver to plug in a movie video prefaced by a political advertisement for PAN. Then the driver sits down and turns on his own boom box.

If you're up front, you listen to a mix of music and movie. Driver's music can be corrido to rap. Films are action and teenage, but not bad for a bus ride. Dialogue is simple, good for practicing your Spanish; action keeps the story going even if you don't understand a word. I never go to current movies so I was really impressed by the special effects in the films. I saw three films: #1. President's Daughter, #2. A poltergeist horror film, and #3. Mission Impossible. They blew up everything in this kind of a re-make of 7 Days in May.

I also enjoyed the bus drive into the neighborhoods perched high on a seat where you could look over the houses and yards. However, the terminals have all moved out from the town-centers. So after spending $7 for a 2 hour ride from Santa Ana to Hermosillo, it cost me $4 for a taxi ride to get downtown.

Now, a Huge Surprise:

I've claimed and planned my trip on the assumption that, "You can get anywhere on a bus in Mexico." That proposition was tested.

Thinking ahead for Monday, before I left the Hermosillo's Central Bus Terminal, I went over to a counter and asked about a bus to Creel. I was shifted from one counter to another and finally I was told to go to Los Mochis and take the train. I said, "I'd like to take Highway 16," and I showed the route on the map. Four clerks told me that there was no bus through the Sierra Madre Occidental Mountains. I was stunned. I asked, "How do people get from town to town in the mountains?" There were a number of clearly indicated towns on the map. "Trucks, cars, donkeys," I was told in a voice that also said, "I've already told you, there are no buses."

Highway 16 connected Hermosillo to Chihuahua. So I asked, "Is there a bus to Chihuahua?" I figured that I could get off along the way and somehow get to Creel. "Sí," the gal said. "Take the bus to Agua Prieta and from Agua Prieta to Chihuahua." I was dumbfounded. That's like going from San Francisco to Los Angles via Reno, Nevada.

I began to wonder just how isolated was the Copper Canyon and if my plan was viable.

I left the Terminal with a numb mind. But across the street I saw a small office for another bus line. Hummm, maybe, "No" means "Not from our Terminal on our buses," or maybe they just hadn't had anyone inquire before. Going into the Sierra Madre is not your standard trip. Just ask Humphrey Bogart.

I crossed the street. I inquired and a lady, very eager to help, told me that Monday through Friday mornings Transportes Chaves would pick up bus passengers at 6:30 a.m. at the TBC Station and leave for Yecora, which on the map was about half way to Creel. "Are there buses in the Sierra?" I asked. "Yes," she assured me.

I was back in business.... if only half way.... There had to be a connection to the second half. I'd find out how when I arrived in Yecora.

Day 3 Part 2: Hermosillo Hotel Kino Fiesta

I had plans for Monday, 6:30 a.m. at the TBC Terminal, Transportes Chaves, but a weekend to spend in Hermosillo.

I settled into Hotel San Andres. I needed a walk after the morning bus ride and headed downtown just trying to get a sense of the general area and where my hotel was located. I looked for green spots, trees that would indicate parks in the distance and found the University, then took a left on a main street, passed VIPS Restaurant and signs indicating directions to the Cathedral, Museum and the Casa Cultura.

Kino Hotel, a block off the main street, intrigued me with its architecture, if not colonial, 19th century classic. I asked to see a room and took a tour of the hotel, remodeled many time over the years, and found attractive rooms with refrigerators and microwaves for about $50 a night.

To the left of the main lobby there was a Museum and a history of the hotel.

Antique phonographs, telephones, typewriters, and an electric fan, all in working order were on display. A card labeled each item noting the manufacturer and the year. The oldest phonograph, an 1896 Edison cylinder model, looked new. There was a range of models from 1896 to 1924. A platter replaced the cylinder. The changes seemed so slow, 28 years, still mechanical with a big horn sticking out like you see in the "His Master's Voice" trademark. There were telephones with cranks, both wall and table top models. The Remington typewriter 1936 model, looked like the one I hammered on in college.

But I thought of the rapid changes we've been in since the computer-internet age. I couldn't recall a computer product that's basically the same after 3 decades.

Then as I snooped around I found myself at the edge of inner courtyard. I stopped. It appeared there was a private party.

But I was to find out that it was more than a fiesta.

Day 3 Part 3: Fiesta, Dance and Quinceañera

In Mexico, the Quinceañera (Celebration of a girl's 15th Birthday) is a major event, similar to a Debutante Coming Out Ball, but it's not necessarily an upper class event. It's viewed as one of the greatest moments of a young lady's life, and one of the happiest. Wedding are milestones too, but some are regretted, a Quinceañera, never.

Families sacrifice for the celebration. Often, parents, like Soccer Moms, or Little League Dads, live the joy through their children.

I had never been to a Quinceañera, well until today.

When I walked into the courtyard of the Kino Hotel, tables and chairs, music and refreshments were set up and guests were milling around. There were 15 Maids of Honor wearing apricot colored ballroom gowns. I hesitated. It looked like a private party. A lady came over to welcome me, thinking that I was a guest. "No, I'm just a tourist, " I said. "But is this a wedding party?" The lady laughed and told me that it was a retirement party for Guadalupe Lopez who had worked for the Kino Hotel for 24 years.

A young man, Juan Carlos Jimenez joined us. He introduced himself. He was in charge of Tourist Packages for the hotel and invited me to join the celebration. "May I get you a drink?" he said. "A soft drink would be appreciated," I said. Juan Carlos led me to a circle of chairs, introduced me to friends, went for a coke, came back and we chatted.

Two impressive piñatas hung from the patio's rafters, a five-foot tall Tecate Beer Can, and an equally large Gran Dama (Great Lady), both made of papier-mâché.

The Maids of Honor were forming a line.

Juan Carlos explained, "Guadalupe never had a Quinceañera, her family could not afford it, so her friends on the hotel staff, decided to make her Retirement Party her Quinceañera."

Music began. It was The Triumphal March from Aida. Armando Bernard Noriega, owner of the hotel, gave his arm to Guadalupe, dressed in white, and led her in procession followed by her Damas de Honor. They circled the center fountain followed by the train of ladies.

Men got up from their chairs to offer an arm to each lady and joined in the procession. Smiles and joy and laughter filled the courtyard. Photographers jockeyed for position. When the procession stopped, Sr. Armando Bernard danced the first waltz with Guadalupe. One by one men cut in to dance with Guadalupe.

I couldn't imagine a more successful Quinceañera, or one with more respect and love for the celebrant.

Guadalupe Lopez, Armando, Armando Jr., and the Damas de Honor posed for a group portrait.

Then Guadalupe moved cross-court in front of the cake that was decorated in full color with Cinderella. Guadalupe stood for photos. I greeted her, spoke about her retirement and her plans, and thanked her for being her guest at her Quinceañera.

It was still afternoon and downtown Hermosillo was quiet. I walked past the museum to a central park with a statue of Jesús García. I knew his name from a corrido song, Máquina 501 (Locomotive 501). In 1907, Nacozari, a mining town in Sonora, was threatened with destruction when a dynamite-explosive laden train caught fire. Alone, Jesús took over Locomotive 501 and drove the burning train to the edge of town. He needed only a few more yards to reach safety himself when the dynamite exploded. Jesús lost his life, but saved the town and 100s of lives.

In his honor, the town was renamed, Nacozari de García.

I caught a taxi to the top of Cerro Campana (Bell-shaped Hill) that overlooked Hermosillo. The view is like looking over Phoenix from Pinnacle Peak.

Hermosillo Casa Cultura: Contemporeous Dance

The taxi took me back to my hotel. I rushed a quick meal, a cold beer and a bowl of tortilla soup. I dressed up, changing into my only long sleeve, dark blue shirt as I had another event to attend. I had seen a poster advertising, "La Lágrima, " a Contemporaneous Ballet Company at the Casa Cultura at 8 p.m.

At the Casa de Cultura, there was a long line to the ticket counter. It was a young, college-aged crowd. I purchased a single general admission ticket for 60 pesos ($5.50). I read the program and tried to understand the story. It wasn't clear to me. The best I could make out was a quote from the director, Adriana Castaños. "Dance is a social act."

My interpretation: There were 5 dancers and the dance was presented in 5 stages. In the twilight of light and shadow, the dance opened with 2 dancers, nude except for briefs. This couple, male and female, maintained a pose while a melodic piano played in the background. They appeared to be Adam and Eve, or perhaps Lucy and Neanderthal and as the danced progress I opted for the Darwinian interpretation.

The dance, like the music, began simply. One dance flowed into another and became more intricate. In part two, three male comic dancers replaced Adam and Eve. They appeared to be squirrels. The point seemed to be that the first dancers imitated the animal kingdom. The nudity gave way to moderate dress.

In the next set, two females and the three males discover each other. It was love, romance and boy meets girl. Both the dance and the music developed. From the original piano solo, the music and score became more complex. Music evolved, instruments were added, a full orchestra was heard.

The dance developed. The theme of birth and children appeared. In the climax, the dancers were clothed, as if costumed for a Mardi Gras. There was an illusion to Cats and most impressively, the dance and music, fully developed, concluded with a stylized interpretation of the Mexican Hat Dance.

Dance, music, clothes, romance evolved and the rhythm of the Mexican Hat Dance with it's staccato footwork brought us back to the origin of dance, the animal kingdom.

Dance had developed and progressed in a "social act."

Expenses: Hotel $35, bus &7.50, meals $15, taxis $19, dance $5.50. Total: $82.

Day 4: Sea of Cortez: Kino Bay College Heaven

My sister-in-law once spent a short, happy college, beach vacation at Kino Bay in the Sea of Cortez, about a two-hours' drive from Hermosillo. She wondered, "Has it changed?" I had a connection and asked my friend Bernardo if he could email his friend in Hermosillo, and maybe I could spend a Sunday at the beach.

Bernardo's friends Christian and Etty were my hosts for the day. They picked me up at Hotel San Andres at 10 a.m. This was the last day of Spring Vacation and their son had been spending the week with college friends at Kino Bay. It was the best of timing. I would view of the Sea of Cortez and Christian and Etty would pick up their son.

Kino Bay was packed with college students. Ten kilometers of beach homes line Kino Bay along the one-road access. Traffic was heavy. All I saw were bumpers and bikinis for 6 miles. Christian and Etty looked the town over and spotted their favorite beachside restaurant. We drove end to end, and up on a cerro (hill) that gave us an excellent view of the Sea of Cortez, the beach, the sierra and the desert. The colors were blue, brown and tan.

We stopped, parked and walked the beach. The beach was active but not full. Young men were playing soccer with beer cans for a goal. A yellow, red and blue umbrella stood out in contrast to the beach and the white shells, kicked up by waves and the tide, formed a crunchy path along the Sea of Cortez.

Vacation homes were under construction.

I felt like I needed a pass to enter, as I was the oldest guy on Kino Beach. We were told that the college crowd was a once-a-year phenomenon. For the rest of the year, fishing and tranquility would reign.

We lunched at Mariscos Judy, a beach restaurant. Judy, an American had married a Mayan chef and opened this restaurant. We ordered the specialty, a combination plate of shrimp, fried fish, manta ray, vegetables, salad and cold beer. Then we had a second beer.

Expenses: Hotel $35, breakfast $6, miscellaneous $4. Total: $45.

Day 5: Up Before the Rooster, The Road to Creel

I left the Bus Central Saturday feeling that my trip may be altered. I was nearly convinced that I'd be going south to Los Mochis and would have to catch the Copper Canyon train to Creel.

My belief that you can get anywhere in Mexico on a bus was reconfirmed when the clerk at Central Bus Terminal told me to take the Transportes Chaves bus to Yecora and that there were connecting buses in the Sierras. But I started to have doubts.

Transportes Chaves was ready at 6:30 a.m. in Hermosillo and left shortly after 7 a.m. It was Second Class, which means very comfortable seats, sofa like. The bus seated 40; there was no TV and no onboard bathroom. Executive Class would be luxury with super wide seats, 24 passengers, TV, and bathroom. First Class 32 seats, has TV and bathroom. The bathroom removes 8 seats that you find on Second Class. Third class, is generally a shorter bus, windows open for fresh air. It looks like a school bus.

I preferred the Second Class without the TV and curtains. In First Class I felt like I was in a rolling Movie Theater and missing the view.

We rolled out east across the plains looking directly at the Sierra Madre Occidental, brown and barren. The jagged edged, tall peaks, looked like a saw edge, which the word sierra means. We raced forward, climbed the low hills and then entered the sierras where twists and turns slowed our progress. It was a 180-mile, 5 1/2 hour trip. It became 6 when we stopped for a bathroom and lunch break near Yecora, just before our descent through a majestic wind eroded canyon where the driver pointed out various forms. There were craggy faces, mushrooms and turtles.

We drove past Tepoca, a town with glittering galvanized roofs in the sun. I asked Jesús Ramon, my seatmate, "What's the industry here?" I expected, "Saw mill, lumber, maybe mining." But Jesús said, "Marijuana." I let that drop.

We arrived in Yecora, before 2 p.m., a town of about 1000. It was dusty and looked wind swept. The Pemex gas station was the glamour highlight. I was concerned that I'd be spending a night here. I noticed three young men standing across from the Pemex on the highway. I asked it they were waiting for a ride or if there was a bus.

What good fortune! The tallest fellow, who looked like a student, wearing a white shirt, black sweater and black trousers, said there would be an Estrella Blanca Bus within a few minutes. It was the Obregon to Chihuahua bus that could take me most of the way to Creel.

Within 15 minutes I flagged down the bus. As I went to board the Estrella Blanca (White Star) bus, the driver told me, "There are no seats." I said, "That's OK, I can stand." The driver said he could take me as far as San Pedro, a 7-hour ride and I could connect to Creel.

No seat was the best seat. I stood on the steps in the door well. I had an up-front view standing in the entrance steps of the bus. I got off and on the Estrella Blanca at least 10 times as we stopped and dropped off passengers and picked up new ones. Seats were always full and I maintained my windshield panorama station. I had a better view than the driver because I did not have to watch the road.

It was a long day and a very lonely road. I don't think I saw 5 vehicles all day long. But with the changes and connections, I hardly noticed the time. The sierra was magnificent with pipe organ and saguaro cactus in bloom, encinos, (scrub oaks), long needle pines, cypress pines and the incredible flora, changing with elevation like Sedona in Arizona.

A coyote ran across the road, stopped and turned to watch us pass. Squirrels frequently raced across the road, darted into the brush or found a safe crevice among the rocks. One squirrel munching a dead snake on the highway was so deaf, or concentrating on his meal, that he didn't even flinch as the bus roared by.

The Estrella Blanca halted at a rest stop. We were given 20 minutes. I took a short walk and was standing on the highway, making sure I wasn't left behind, when I saw a hiker dressed in green fatigues coming down the hill towards me with a walking stick and a backpack. As he neared I greeted him in Spanish. We exchanged a few words about hiking in the area and then he explained why he was there. "I'm mapping the area using GPS for a Canadian company. We're mapping minerals." He told me he'd be there for three weeks.

The bus driver waved me over, I said, "Good-bye and good luck."

We slowed down in the mountains, but it was a great travel experience with the driver and co-driver (they switched off; the trip took 14 hours from Obregon to Chihuahua). They told stories and joked with the passengers.

From time to time the driver plugged in a music CD, all Mexican, Celina was his favorite singer. He said she was his girlfriend until her death. I asked for José Alfredo Jiménez. He flipped through his collection and we listed to José's Exitos (Greatest Hits). Estrella Blanca was second-class, so the driver's music did not compete with TV.

Estrella Blanca dropped me at San Pedro, a crossroads, at 9 p.m. Two log cabins were San Pedro. One was a restaurant with no bathroom, or at least for men it was the shadow behind the building. The other cabin seemed to be a house. I could see a weak, yellow light from within.

If a family of 4 hadn't been waiting for the bus, my heart would have begun to thump and race. I'm just too old for an overnight in a field with cows. The family assured me that the Noreste Bus would arrive shortly.

We waited about a half-hour and there were cheers when the Noreste bus pulled off the highway, rounded the corner and stopped. There were plenty of seats for the 1-1/2 hour ride to Creel.

I was surprised. I never thought I'd arrive in Creel my first night out from Hermosillo.

The Noreste bus was first class with TV but no bathroom. So I'm confused as to whose definition to rely on. Maybe different companies have their own system. I was even ready to sit and watch a film after standing for 7 hours. The movie was Aviator, the story of Howard Hughes. I arrived in the middle. The film was in English without subtitles. I think I was the only one on the bus who listened, or could.

In Creel, Victor, a guide met the bus. He was friendly, courteous and eager to show me a hotel. At 11 p.m. I was eager too. He gave me a pitch on tours and we walked two blocks to a very nice, warm hotel. There was no name. It was recently remodeled and the price was $25, a bargain.

I asked for a restaurant and Victor took me to La Victoria. I asked what I owed him and he said, "Nothing." He was hoping that I'd come by in the morning and look over the tours. I thanked him, but also gave him 20 pesos for his good advice and for helping me.

I entered La Victoria with another man. We were the last customers. I ordered vegetable soup, that was mostly cauliflower, and a beer. It came with corn tortillas.

I spoke with the other man across from my table. He carried a carbine rifle, wore green camouflage fatigues with a U.S. flag patch, and some army insignia on his shoulder. He said that he was a "policía" in Urique and invited me to sit at his table.

We both had soup and a beer. I asked him about his rifle. He got out his I.D. card, Leonardo Lopez Carrillo. He unfolded an official document. It was his permission to carry a carbine 223. He was the strangest looking cop I ever saw, but the papers were all documented, stamped and notarized. I asked if I could snap his picture.

He stood in from the fireplace. I felt like I was taking the picture of the last man who rode with Pancho Villa.

Expenses: Buses $40, meals $14, hotel $25, miscellaneous $2. Total: $81.