A bit over one hour out of Los Mochis, Sinaloa, Mexico, and inland toward the Copper Canyon, is the beautiful town of El Fuerte. Founded in 1564 by the Spanish conquistador Don Francisco de Ibarra as a fort for protection against the Zauque and Tehuico Indians, El Fuerte later became a flourishing trading post for miners, and nowadays, is a federally designated “Pueblo Magico” to preserve its rich culture and architecture. It’s crisp, blindingly colorful buildings, beautifully restored hotels and restaurants are seductive. I visit the Choza, Hidalgo (original home of Zorro, with bronze statue to prove it), and Los Torres posadas. The massive stone fort above the historic center is a reminder of past battles for control over this region.
The sweltering afternoon has kept towns folk inside under fans and air conditioning, but after 9pm families come out to socialize. I venture out to Posada Miguel Hidalgo Restaurante, and try the luscious river lobsters and black bass, fresh-caught right out of the Rio Fuerte just a few blocks down the hill. I consider ordering the flan for dessert, but instead stroll through the central plaza, with its palm trees and twinkly lights, and stumble upon a festival with music, folk dancers and plenty of food carts. Heat lightning flashes and mingles with the crack of firecrackers in the streets, as dry thunder booms through the hills.
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| The Municipal Palace of El Fuerte |
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| Rio El Fuerte flows gracefully through town |
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| A Spanish stronghold |
Although this is the gateway to the Copper Canyon (Barrancas de Cobre) and a major stop on the famous 5-star multi-day train ride into Chihuahua and the many spectacular canyons to the northeast, the pueblo has no outside visitors, no foreigners at all. Many signs and websites state “closed due to lack of tourism” and this has been a blow to local businesses all over Mexico the past few years. Business owners blame the unjust fear propagated by the northern media, and it is exactly what I see with my own eyes. My Posada Don Porfirio staff bends over backward to ensure I have a good experience and continually tap at my door, offering more soap, water, sweets and travel tips. They are authentic, but also in need of good referrals. In the evening I venture out into the foreboding, tension-filled air, as the wind picks up and the lightning gets more frequent. The sky seems about to burst. The only people I see sit on their stoops under protection of verandas.
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| A storm's a-brewin' |
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I go to my favorite roof-top open-air bar that affords a nice view of the green hills below, and sit alone watching la tormenta (storm) move in. Lightning bolts repeatedly strike close targets as I sip my gin and tonic. The lights under the palapa roof wink on and off, but I order the tortilla soup to show I’m sticking this one out! From where I sit, I see the Mexican flag at full horizontal display as the wind whips through the plaza. And finally, finally the black clouds rip apart and a torrential downpour is upon the pueblo. The waiters run to reposition tables out of the torrents and the smell of warm rain on the palm palapa roof is earthy and calming. I receive blowing spray and watch lightning reflect off yellow adobe walls.
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| My hotel, Posada Don Porfirio |
Laughing out loud, I slosh my way through rivers 4 inches deep, over water-covered cobblestone courtyards and across rain-engulfed streets (disconcerting as lightning strikes all around), keeping an eye out for water spouts gushing from above. As I approach my posada, the staff laughs as they see my drenched state, and welcome me inside. “El calor ha rompido.” Yes, the heat has broken.
My second day in El Fuerte is just as oppressive as the first, with heavy thick air and dramatic dark clouds forming over the mountains. I hide out from the heat and watch “All the Pretty Horses,” the bittersweet story of two young Texan horsemen who cross the Rio Grande to Old Mexico looking for their destiny - a perfectly beautiful and tragic film fitting my mood. The hot dry thunder continues to echo and rumble above, electric lights flicker, and mosquitos diligently harass me.
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As the weekend comes to a close, I reluctantly head back to Topolobampo and the ferry terminal, without a full Copper Canyon experience. Que lastima! Doing it right would have required better timing and lower air temps. (Four times the size of the Grand Canyon!) I vow to return with friends for the grand train ride.
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| Chepe - the train through Copper Canyon |
More El Fuerte Photos -
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| Desayuno! Breakfast burritos |
I go to my favorite roof-top open-air bar that affords a nice view of the green hills below, and sit alone watching la tormenta (storm) move in. Lightning bolts repeatedly strike close targets as I sip my gin and tonic. The lights under the palapa roof wink on and off, but I order the tortilla soup to show I’m sticking this one out! From where I sit, I see the Mexican flag at full horizontal display as the wind whips through the plaza. And finally, finally the black clouds rip apart and a torrential downpour is upon the pueblo. The waiters run to reposition tables out of the torrents and the smell of warm rain on the palm palapa roof is earthy and calming. I receive blowing spray and watch lightning reflect off yellow adobe walls. 
As the weekend comes to a close, I reluctantly head back to Topolobampo and the ferry terminal, without a full Copper Canyon experience. Que lastima! Doing it right would have required better timing and lower air temps. (Four times the size of the Grand Canyon!) I vow to return with friends for the grand train ride.
