I awoke at sunrise, ready to make my trek into the Barranca de Huentitan. I took a couple of photos from the balcony of my view room, and then headed out to see if I could find a better viewpoint. Unfortunately, the mirador (lookout) across the street was not yet open so I headed to the end of a couple of the streets in the neighborhood.

Most of them ended with a large fortification wall that allowed only the owner, whose property it guarded, to enjoy the view of the other side. This also meant I had to pass every stray dog twice as I returned up the street. Fortunately, most of the dogs seemed to be too tired to make a fuss of me passing their turf.

It turned out that the best view in the neighborhood was from my room so I headed back up before the prism of color for the sunrise dissipated. On my way up, I asked the front desk attendant what time breakfast started.

Though I wasn’t much impressed with the menu I’d seen the day before, I did notice they had a proper espresso maker, and starting my day with a good cup of coffee and a view over the canyon I was to explore seemed like the right start to the day. Unfortunately, I was told, the restaurant didn’t open until 8:30, though he quickly added that realistically it would be more like 9.

Had I found any indication that there was another coffee shop in the neighborhood, I would have gone, but even then I’ve found that coffee shops in Mexico open sometime between 10 and noon. I guess they don’t use coffee to wake up here so much as an opportunity to take a break after half a day’s work.

I walked upstairs to the restaurant at 8:30 and again at 8:45 to find no signs of life in the restaurant. On my third try, just past nine, I found the glass door open and walked inside. Only one couple was there already so I was hopeful I could get a quick meal and head out on my adventure.

I ordered a latte with a plate of sliced fruit and yoghurt. I also asked for a croissant just to get some carbs in my system since I knew I probably wouldn’t have lunch until later in the afternoon when I exited the canyon. The fruit was nicely presented: thinly sliced banana, papaya, and apple covered in yoghurt with tiny blueberries that dyed the yoghurt purple.

The entire time I waited for the fruit plate, there was no sign of my latte so I finally asked my server if it was coming. She said that they couldn’t get the machine to work and offered me a regular coffee instead. I accepted, wanting to start the day with some bit of caffeine.

The coffee she brought was like something you might get at a bank offering free coffee to their customers. It was weak and had an odd taste that suggested it was likely some kind of Nescafe mix. I found that odd since she’d brought cream and sugar packs to the table. Whatever blend they’d used already included these things. I was quite disappointed that I’d delayed my hike two hours for a cup of good coffee to only be presented with the coffee version of Tang.

I cut my losses by leaving the full cup of coffee behind and heading out for my hike. Though my reconnaissance had taken a good part of the previous day, it did save me a lot of time on the second go. I was able to cross from one plateau to the next in about 15 minutes. I then continued on a road I’d seen on Google maps when I did research for my shortcut.

It was a well traveled dirt road that followed the rim of the plateau which means I enjoyed wonderful views of the canyon along the way. I often saw the bones of cows  as well which raised concern that I was in the territory of large predators. I bent down to pick up a couple of rocks should I encounter one, and in my head I tried to piece together what the Spanish word for mountain lion might be should I encounter someone along the way and have to explain why I was carrying rocks.

While Mexican people don’t seem to care if you cross their land, one needs to take care not to cross land where illicit growing might be going on. This thought came into my head when I began to see black plastic water pipes running across the ground, though I wasn’t particularly afraid because it appeared that I had walked into an orchard, and I know of no drugs that come from trees.

My fears were further allayed when I began to see signs planted in front of some of the trees. The first ones I encountered were bleached out completely by day long exposure to the sun, but I finally came upon a legible one which read, “Jardin Botanica de Jalisco”. Apparently I’d admitted myself to the botanical garden of the state of Jalisco.

As I continued, the landscaping got more formal, and I made a note to include this place on one of my future tours.The place was devoid of any people though so I wasn’t sure it was currently open. That thought was substantiated when I came across a security guard who asked me if I was lost.

I explained how I had come to be there and where I was intending to go. Without a word of scolding for trespassing, he directed me to a path up the hill across from his guard shack. He instructed me to stay to the left at any intersection, and that would take me to the trailhead into the canyon. We talked for another minute or two, and he wished me luck on my journey.

The path wound even closer to the cliff edge, givin me a preview of the 200 feet of descent and ascent that I still had ahead of me after my 2 hour shortcut to the trailhead. I began to encounter other hikers and confirmed that I was headed the right direction.

At one point I crossed a tram track. I remembered reading about a tram into the canyon, though I couldn’t find any information about it online. It turns out that that is because it is no longer in use. The tracks themselves, however, were currently being used by dozens of people as a physical workout.

I looked down at the people struggling to climb towards me and asked someone if I could get to the base of the canyon that way. He said yes but also that it was dangerous. With a near vertical drop, I agreed and decided if I was going to do it, that I would do it coming up and not risk the chance of tripping forward down a 2000 foot cliff.

Apparently most agreed with that assessment as the serpentine trail down the mountain was filled with people enjoying a less challenging workout. To be fair, the switchbacks were steep and the path made up of large well worn stones that would have made it impossible to tread if they were wet. Even the dust that gathered on them acted as a lubricant requiring a thoughtful placement of each step. 

The descent took an hour, and still I had another hour to reach the bridge that would be my turnaround point. The miscalculation of time was not entirely my fault. During my Uber trip the day before, I’d told my driver that I’d allotted an entire day to get in and out of the canyon.

He told me he did it every day and the round trip only took him 2 hours. That was one of the reasons that I was willing to have a late breakfast, but I began to realize how impractical it was to think I could go up and down 2000 feet over six miles in the span of 2 hours. I decided that my driver had either been inflating his ability or that he had not gone all the way to the bridge, just to the bottom of the tramway.

My feet were starting to get hot, an early sign of blisters, so I removed my shoes and enjoyed the soft cool sand that made up the path along the river. It may sound counterintuitive, but I deduced, you can’t get a blister if there’s nothing rubbing against your feet. It turned out to be true, and my feet felt much better, though I did have to suffer through the occasional acupressure when parts of the path turned again to stone.

An hour later I reached the bridge, and I was reminded of America’s bridge to nowhere. It was a beautiful pedestrian suspension bridge with a stone foundation and steel cables holding up a swaying wooden platform. Below, ran the Rio Grande de Santiago, but on the other side of the bridge, the path just ended. It seemed strange to provide a crossing where there was nothing to cross to, save the other side. No complaints though. The decision to see the bridge brought me to the base of the canyon which reminded me of the great canyons of Utah and Arizona that I’ve visited. 

The river below, which appeared from above as filled with rapids, was actually filled with a white foam, and where it wasn’t topped with foam, you could see the brown color of the water. I was reminded of the latte that I’d been deprived of that morning. Unfortunately, there was nothing tasty about this river.

Just before I got to the bridge, I smelled the unmistakable odor of portable toilets. Thinking it was nice that they’d added these to keep people from soiling the river, I was surprised to instead encounter a waterfall, which was the true source of the smell. It shared the chocolate brown color of the river it fed, and big bunches of white foam gathered around the rocks at its base.

I was conflicted about whether to photograph a waterfall of wastewater, but thought why not add it to the picture of trash falls I’d taken the day before. I even had to wait until a couple that was photographing themselves with the falls moved out of view. It made me laugh at the way people can just make the best of a situation, and I thought this must have been what America was like before we enacted the clean air and water acts. I know at least Seattle was subject to similar flushing as the tide from Puget sound, twice a day, returned all of the waste that had been emptied into it.

So, I tried to look at the big picture, and wondered whether anyone would notice in my photographs or maybe they would just assume I used a sepia feature on the water.

For my return ascent, I found a different trial. I’d actually missed it earlier when I got caught up in the tram tracks, so I hadn’t noticed the sign for it. The difference was that this trail began its ascent immediately and was like climbing up the stairs in an emergency stairwell. They took the most direct route up. I’d added to the challenge by continuing to go barefoot and probably surprised those people that I passed by hopping like a monkey up the steps.

At the top of the climb, the path wrapped around a couple of cliff overhangs that, with their dark stripes, reminded me of the striations I’ve seen on the cliffs in Utah. They are caused by water eroding the softer dark rock and carrying it over the harder light rock. Not satisfied with nature’s artwork, others added their own. There was a painted mural of three large cats and further on some geometric carving into the stone. Based on the complexity of the carvings they appeared to be more recent.

The trail continued to climb until I reached a nice sandy stretch which gave me a chance to pick up the pace. I’d already been in the canyon for 3 hours, and I was hoping to get back to my hotel to enjoy the pool before I checked out. The path brought me again to the tram tracks, and I decided to try the upward climb. 

It wasn’t particularly difficult at first, but the tracks soon made a steep change, and I found that climbing without the use of my hands was impossible. I ran into others who were either resting or paralyzed with fear as they clung to the rails.

The rail bed as this point was solid concrete, and there was very little on which to get a foothold. The ascent became a full body workout as I pulled myself up with my arms, mainly using my feet to keep from losing traction. It reminded me of a time I almost walked over a cliff edge holding only the rope in my hands. I thought better of it knowing what would happen had I begun to fall with the rope burning its way through my fingers.

This was the same kind of situation where a fall would be unstoppable so I began to take breaks to give my body a rest. My lungs were happy with the time out as well, and I took advantage of the break to enjoy the view of the canyon below. This was certainly the kind of thing that you would not do had you put too much thought into it beforehand.

Eventually I crested the top of the tracks to where the old tram car was still resting. To the left was a dirt path and a rock with an arrow pointed on it, presumably pointing to the way out. It led to the main path I’d walked earlier with all the other hikers and continued up until you were surrounded by vendors selling everything you’d desire after your workout. 

There was water, fruit shakes, chips, ice cream cones, and candy. I’d hoped to have a more substantial lunch, but the only thing available was the usual fried tacos and assorted cooked organ meats by the kilo. I settled on a pineapple/banana smoothie and ordered a sandwich to go.

I chose the chicken sandwich but asked if she could include vegetables. This was taken quite literally and what I received was a double decker sandwich, one with chopped chicken and one with a variety of shredded vegetables. That’s what I get for asking something unconventional. At least I got some much needed veggies.

The town was not as charming as I was led to believe by the same Uber driver who said he’d done the canyon hike in two hours, and I was beginning to wonder if he’d been there at all. I ordered an Uber and 30 minutes later was headed down to the pool in my swimming shorts.

It hadn’t been the warmest day out so when I touched the water and realized it was not at all heated, I went to check out the sauna. While there were actually two saunas, neither was on. I didn’t know how long it would take to heat up a sauna so I opted for a nap instead and headed back to my room.

Around 6:00, I went out to get some food since all the restaurants had to stop service by 7. I wasn’t particularly hungry having had my double decker just a couple hours earlier, and that turned out to be a good thing because the only restaurant close to the hotel was closing its corrugated metal doors when I walked up.

Instead, I crossed the street to the Oxxo to see what was available. Having dehydrated myself throughout the day, I chose a couple of the Cup o noodle soups. The flavors available here are distinctly Mexican, which means it’s hard to find one without lime or spicy flavor. I did find a couple shrimp flavored ones, and went to the coffee maker to add hot water.

My room didn’t have any cooking facilities so it was necessary to add the hot water at the convenience store. I enjoyed my meal at the desk in my room while watching the sunset over the canyon. I calculated the enormous profit that could be earned by anyone who opened up a decent restaurant in this neighborhood overlooking a grand canyon, and then I hit the sheets, eager to give my body some extra time to recuperate from my grand adventure.