This song was written by Zachary Bergen, who by trade is a physicist, from Boulder, and also an extremely talented musician and composer. He has worked as a studio musician with several well-known recording artists.
From Zachary Bergen
These are my sentiments re: the song I wrote... There is an energy, a flow to life. We must find that flow and jump in. A return to innocence, a return to love. A return home. Micah was pure of heart and reached a state where it is impossible to maintain a physical presence because he was vibrating too high for this plane. I mean that literally, not metaphorically. There is no death and in that we can rejoice. Micah "is" and always has been "with" us. He is beyond time and hopes we'll join him because we can join him now. The song I wrote has always been there. It is of the same spirit that Caballo aligned to. For those of us fortunate enough to have realized the pure thread of embodiment that we witnessed, we carry a slight smile knowing that Micah knows and sees. I opened to that spirit and it flowed through me and came out as a song. We all can have that same spirit come through us and celebrate a unique gift to the world in whatever form appears. That is the best tribute we can give. Get on with it.
Sneak previewBorn To Run Free: True Trails From The Horse's Mouth by Micah True
Caballo Blanco was just returning to his mountain cabin near Nederland, Colorado in the spring of 1989. It had been a 7 year life-cycle bringing him back around to here, where he was supposed to be at the moment, sitting in front of the wood stove, fire crackling in warm and thoughtful reflection. During the 7 years since 1982, after retiring from his previous occupation of being a prize fighter, he had gotten very much into long distance running, having run 5,000 and up to 6,000 miles each year during the 80's. Most of that running came naturally as a form of moving meditation, a clearing of the mind and senses. He did not run a race until 1986 when he accidentally won a 50 miler after running 100+ and up to 180 mile weeks on a regular basis for a few years, for fun. That winter had been another good one for the horse-man, running the trails around lake Attitlan in Guatemala; a large, seemingly endlessly deep blue crater lake, surrounded by three volcanoes; a place where he had been spending the winters through the tumultuous times of the 80's; strifeful and growing times for Guatemala, the indigenous people of that land, and for the spirit of the man called Caballo Blanco [White Horse], a name he had received by Mayan villagers a few years earlier while running the connecting maze of trails around the lake.
While looking for more wood and fuel to feed the dwindling fire, the just returned from traveling man found an old manuscript in a drawer, the hand-written scrolls documenting another life-time in the circle of being that was his life, having had ended that particular story 7 years previous. He had stopped writing, and put the story away, not to even look at it again until this day some years later. He began to read the nearly 1,000 page text. As day tuned into night, and the night moved on, growing darker and colder as the hours passed, the Colorado cold front that he had returned to deepened, as did his attention into the reading of the words of a past life, love, wins, losses, and fictional like events leading to the now, the re-realization that the past, present and future are really connected as one, all occurring now in the grand scheme of things; a life-time being but 70 or 80 years of the millions of years of pure existence. He read and laughed, put another log on the fire, read and laughed some more, reading the story of the young California hippy prize-fighter living in a dangerous world, but in a strangely real and moving way, living a dream. And when the story would lag, the young man would stick his thumb out and wander the country just to make something happen, to create more story that could easily and only really be written as it occurred. The real life characters and dialog were so surreal as to be the stuff of fiction, but, was as real as anything can be.
24 Hours passed and the fire had dwindled down to coals. El Caballo had relived almost 1,000 pages of long-hand writings and was now into the last chapter. The events unfolding on paper were as faded in time as the ink, buried deep in the sub conscious of the writer, in a place of sacred self awareness, a learning process, a measurement of where he was and how he had arrived at this current resting place in time. Now, he was ready to read and re-experience the past, the past that led to the now, and would be his future--The trail goes on forever. There is no way to stop the water. After reading it all, the White Horse glanced over at his smiling, faithful True Dog and exclaimed: "This is damn good stuff!". He then opened the door of the wood stove and offered that part of his life to the still hungry embers. And True Dog just grinned.
1982: The place was Marin County, California. "The Gypsy Cowboy" was laying on a table in a dressing room of the Marin County civic auditorium, preparing himself by resting before being featured in the "main event" of the evening, a 10 round fight against the local killer, an up and coming undefeated middleweight. While the roar of the crowd reacted to the action taking place in the auditorium, the young long-haired boxer was totally relaxed on the table, mind wandering to other places; and everything he had been running from came to him at that moment, pinning him to the table. Tears rolled down his face, falling to his chest as the sadness overcame him like flood waters of the overflowing river of dreams. Someone entered the room and his space "Cowboy, you're on", and the Gypsy Cowboy gathered his thoughts to stuff them back into the seeming hole that was his broken heart, as if perhaps he could use those feelings to patch that place; and lifted himself up off the table, to rise with a semblance of dignity as he followed the escort down the aisle and into the deafening noise of the auditorium, stepping up, onto the platform, slipping between the ropes of the ring, dancing a warm-up circle dance. He removed the maroon colored robe with the image of a white horse, created by his lover. The white horse on the back of the robe was beginning to fade. The Gypsy man determined that unlike the image on his robe, he would not fade away. He was ready to fight. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- He had left the island of Maui, wandering the country, winning some, losing some, losing, but really winning others, having taken some dives, pretending to have been knocked out while knowing that he could, and would often times dance circles around his opponent, taking great pleasure in teasing, luring the other to chase him, making him miss and thus frustrating and angering the opposition; inflicting only the physical damage needed to get the job done, no more; and often times apparently not enough to persuade biased judges that the peaceful artist had won the fight. Thus, his art was learning to fight while not hurting others and protecting himself from getting hurt, while writing about it as it happened; the strange and raw world, the underbelly of an American sub-culture being penetrated and explored by a young man living amongst several other varied sub-cultures......
Certainly, the motivations for, and life-style of the Gypsy was interesting to the future psychologist, the curious minded Melinda. She was intrigued, and wondered why he always told and wrote his story from the third person.
The Gypsy Cowboy, along with his faithfully beautiful long haired Golden lab/Samoya pooch, True Dog, drove his '57 Chevy truck into Boulder town in June of 1980. They had wandered up from Padre Island in South Texas where they had been camping in the sand dunes and running a marathon on the beach almost every day for the winter. When the winter turned to spring, the fat furry and lean fur-less friends got into their truck and started driving west, "hitch-hiking" with the old truck that had a welded frame built on the bed with a rolled up canvas tarp that would spread over the welded steel frame for camping, looking like an old covered wagon. When the truck would be down to it's last quarter tank of gas, The Gypsy man and dog would park at a truck stop to get work loading or unloading trucks for gas money. While driving they would often spot a hitch-hiker who would ask where they were going. "West," The driving man would reply. The hitch-hikers would ask how far, "oh, about as far as the gas is above a quarter tank." He would smile, and thus drove straight through in this manner, all the way to San Diego before the truck finally ran out of gas at the curb in front of an old friend's house. Good timing!
While in San Diego the Gypsy dancer booked a fight, put on his show, danced circles around the '76 french Olympics silver medalist who was living in California and being "promoted", building his winning streak. Whenever Frenchy would get close the gypsy would launch 3 fast jabs into his eyes and dance away, frustrating the charging fighter, and eventually opening a nasty cut over the Frenchman's eye. After the 6 round fight the Frenchman was declared winner by a close split-descision. While in the locker room afterwards, the Mexican cornerman whom the cowboy had hired for $40 to work his corner said: "Yipsy...You win the fight. look what you do to your opponent." The hurting Frenchman "winner" was being stitched up by the doctor. The loser of the fight walked out the door briskly with a smile and not a mark on his face.
"Great, we have some gas money" the happy traveler announced to his grinning True Dog, and they were in the "Goat Roper", the name painted on the side of the 57 Chevy truck, headed northbound towards the golden Gate of San Francisco, Humbolt county bound, "Where the grass is greener, sweeter, and more potent." True Dog just grinned.
After leaving the island of Maui, wandering the country, winning some, losing some, losing, but really winning others, having taken some dives, pretending to have been knocked out while knowing that he could, and would often times dance circles around his opponent, taking great pleasure in teasing, luring the other fighter to chase him, making him miss and thus frustrating and angering the opposition; inflicting only the physical damage needed to get the job done, no more; and often times apparently not enough to persuade biased hometown judges that the peaceful artist had won the fight. Thus, his art was learning to fight while not hurting others and protecting himself from getting hurt, while writing about it as it happened; the strange and raw world, the underbelly of an American sub-culture being penetrated and explored by a young man living amongst several varied sub-cultures......
Certainly, the motivations for, and life-style of the Gypsy was interesting to the future psychologist, the curious minded Melinda. She was intrigued, and wondered why he always told and wrote his story from the third person.
The Gypsy Cowboy, along with his faithfully beautiful long haired Golden lab/Samoya pooch, True Dog, drove his '57 Chevy truck into Boulder town in June of 1980. They had wandered up from Padre Island in South Texas where they had been camping in the sand dunes and running a marathon on the beach almost every day for the winter. When the winter turned to spring, the fat furry and lean fur-less friends got into their truck and started driving west, "hitch-hiking" with the old truck that had a welded frame built on the bed with a rolled up canvas tarp that would spread over the welded steel frame for camping, looking like an old covered wagon. When the truck would be down to it's last quarter tank of gas, The Gypsy man and dog would park at a truck stop to get work loading or unloading trucks for gas money. While driving they would often spot a hitch-hiker who would ask where they were going. "West," The driving man would reply. The hitch-hikers would ask how far, "oh, about as far as the gas is above a quarter tank." He would smile, and thus drove straight through in this manner, all the way to San Diego before the truck finally ran out of gas at the curb in front of an old friend's house. Good timing!
While in San Diego the Gypsy dancer booked a fight, put on his show, danced circles around the '76 french Olympics silver medalist who was living in California and being "promoted", building his winning streak. Whenever Frenchy would get close the gypsy would launch 3 fast jabs into his eyes and dance away, frustrating the charging fighter, and eventually opening a nasty cut over the Frenchman's eye. After the 6 round fight the Frenchman was declared winner by a close split-descision. While in the locker room afterwards, the Mexican cornerman whom the cowboy had hired for $40 to work his corner said: "Yipsy...You win the fight. look what you do to your opponent." The hurting Frenchman "winner" was being stitched up by the doctor. The loser of the fight walked out the door briskly with a smile and not a mark on his face.
"Great, we have some gas money" the happy traveler announced to his grinning True Dog, and they were in the "Goat Roper", the name painted on the side of the 57 Chevy truck, headed northbound towards the golden Gate of San Francisco, Humbolt county bound, "Where the grass is greener, sweeter, and more potent."
True Dog just grinned.
They are legendary for their winged feet, but those who venture to run with the Rarámuri ultimately learn about a virtue that transcends an alleged superhuman endurance… kórima. An Ancient People Deep into the recesses of the Sierra Madre Mountains in Northwestern Mexico the valleys and peaks of the rippled earth begin to tighten. Ravines and basins contract into a gnarly maze of twisting gorges, forming a mystical natural wonder known as the Barrancas del Cobre, or Copper Canyon. This vast labyrinth of clenched crags and crests stretches for 28,000 sq. miles in an intricate web whose twisting tentacles could envelop and overwhelm the state of West Virginia. It is in this crude earth labyrinth that the Tarahumara, or Rarámuri, keep their antiquated customs and rituals alive. With ancient blood coursing through their veins, much of the Rarámuri still live as their ancestors did more than 2,000 years ago in adobe huts and even caves. A reclusive, solitary people, the Rarámuri represent a very minimalist culture compared to that of the Western world. Men dress in simple, neon-colored blouses that are cropped short and billow in the wind – the colors a vibrant contrast to the muted earth tones of the canyons. The vivid blouses are paired with coarse, plain-woven fabric skirts also worn short, dipping into defined points in front and back. The women adorn themselves in long, flowing ankle-length skirts that boast colorful and feminine floral prints. Some wear their skirts in layered ruffles; others choose to pleat their faldas. Traditionally, all the Rarámuri use simple huaraches – sandals made from scraps of tire and cow leather. The remarkably primitive lifestyle of the Rarámuri leaves them with only one real way to navigate their wild, crude terrain: to run. The Rarámuri are literally the light-footed ones, the running people. “They live closer to the Earth,” Micah True asserts. “They live closer to their memories, their cellular, muscular and natural memories. So they run.”
A Bridge Between Two Worlds
The Rarámuri have had little exposure to outside influences. Yet, for the past nine years they have been welcoming foreigners from the strange world outside of the magnificent Sierra Madre mountains for one special race each March: the Copper Canyon Ultra marathon, a challenging 50-mile running competition based at the foot of the majestic canyons in the scant, arid Mexican pueblo of Urique. Micah True is the evasive gringo from the North responsible for organizing the ultra, which winds its way through the remote, native trails of the Barrancas del Cobre, challenging participants with technical ascents and descents of more than 9,000 feet. Known as Caballo Blanco, Spanish for the White Horse, True has not only embraced the Rarámuri way of life, he has genuinely adopted it. True has chosen to spend six months out of each year living just as the Rarámuri live deep in the wild recesses of the barrancas. The remainder of the year True lives in Colorado. True’s eccentric lifestyle has earned him descriptions such as lone wanderer of the high sierras, shadowy disciple of the Tarahumara and a ghost among ghosts. Thanks to the recently published book Born to Run by Chris McDougall, the renown of the CCUM within the international running community exploded this year. An ultra that had previously drawn no more than 16 international athletes attracted 60 international competitors and 40 Mexican competitors to participate in the March 2010 race. The remainder of the 365 entrants was indigenous Rarámuri. Less than half of all entrants completed the entire course. This year’s turn out is a promising sign that the objective behind True’s motivation to host the race is gaining success. “The point of the race is to have fun and to run free and to encourage the Rarámuri people to continue their age old traditions of running free. That’s the point,” True states. Kester Wilkinson, the last participant to muster enough grit to finish the entire course, says the CCUM serves as a bridge, offering a unique opportunity to connect with an indigenous people seldom encountered. “You couldn't help but feel you were part of something special… a race and experience straddling several centuries, worlds and cultures... a sheen of fairy dust about it.”
Preserving the Rarámuri Running Tradition
As the all but inescapable influence of the modern world has finally begun to encroach upon the, until now, seemingly impenetrable depths of the Copper Canyon, preserving the running culture of the Rarámuri is a task True has taken upon himself. In Urique, the indigenous culture is fading more rapidly than in other canyon haunts. Yet, True’s ultra has created a reason for the reclusive culture to emerge from their caves and camouflaged adobe huts and once again surface in the dusty Mexican pueblo. “People tend to want what they do not have, what no longer exists… when the indigenous people disappear we wish there were more indigenous people,” True asserts. “That’s why we do this run here in Urique Canyon. Here… the traditional Rarámuri men no longer exist, so when the people see… ‘the skirted ones’ come over they’re excited.” True professes that the epic nature of the barrancas and the indigenous people that inhabit them have captured his heart. The very same attributes are also what ultimately beckon adventure-seekers of the North to trek by plane, train and bus and participate in True’s ultra marathon. “I can’t remember seeing anything quite like it anywhere in any of my other travels,” seasoned adventurer and 2010 race participant Todd Holmes muses. While the compelling component behind many elite ultras is the very nature of extreme competition, a unanimous majority of athletes involved in the CCUM all profess that this race is more about the experience, the intercultural exchange between local Rarámuri running legends and ultra runners from the modern world. “[During the race] people yell support to you in their own language, Rarámuri or Spanish,” Wilkinson recounts. “The words you couldn’t understand but the meaning was clear was lovely.”
Spreading a Rarámuri Virtue: Kórima
True, committed to preserving both the pure adventure of the CCUM experience and the unique cultural encounters inherent in the unique race, acts as a most cautious and protective caretaker, warily minding what is the remarkably preserved Rarámuri spirit, Rarámuri way of life. “I’m very guarded about that,” True admits. “Sometimes I feel like a jerk about it, but you know I am who I am and I have a lot of responsibility to keep things real. To keep this race real. To keep the message real. And I feel very responsible for that and all I can do is act out of love and have faith that good things will happen.” The message True is ‘keeping real,’ is a simple one: “Love is love and joy is joy and running is running,” True says. For True, this simple message is embodied in a most fundamental concept of the Rarámuri people: kórima. “Kórima is the circle of sharing,” True explains. “You give something without the expectation of return, just for the act of giving… to act out of love with no attachment to results. To do something for no good reason.” This concept of kórima, True adds, is what drives the growing success of the CCUM. “It’s a community effort of kórima,” Micah says. “This race is sponsored by kórima. It’s not sponsored by a corporation. It’s sponsored by a philosophy, a concept. By a word. By an idea. And that’s sharing, kórima.” Second time race participant Deborah Bezanis echoes True’s sentiment: “The people of the Sierras have shared with us their beautiful land, the privilege of running and celebrating with them, even their friendship,” Bezanis says. “They call it Korima. It’s free and its mutual.” Ultra athlete Michael Callans says this unique aspect of kórima is precisely what influenced him to participate this year: “It’s always been presented that it’s an opportunity for us to get together and learn about each other and share the experience and maybe give back to this community that’s hosting us,” Callans says. “I like the idea of it being more of a cooperation than a competition.” The opportunity for Westerners to practice kórima is also embodied within the race. Each participant of the CCUM who completes the entire course is awarded 250 kilos of corn. It is tradition for Westerners who earn their corn voucher to offer it to the Rarámuri and related organizations such as local schools and orphanages. Much of the prize money and larger quantities of corn vouchers awarded to the top 10 finishers are also commonly donated. This year, however, the Rarámuri took all but one of the top 10 spots – earning nearly all of the $14,000 in prize money through sheer talent. An Unforgettable Adventure The regal rock precipice, Cerro de la Ventana, looms over Urique like a grand, earthly cathedral. The natural mausoleum of layered rock nobly entombs and celebrates a small fragment of history, one that began anywhere from 40 to 80 million years ago, amidst the surrounding time-warped Urique canyon. At the bottom of this more than 6,000 foot deep canyon, the wary, shadowed eyes of mestizo cowboys peer out from beneath the rims of their sombreros. They watch the lazy rhythm of Urique life with a keenly observant, yet seemingly unattached vigilance. Women colored in shades of Mahogany, Granadillo and Walnut make futile attempts to sweep at the unremitting veil of dust that coats the town. A stone’s throw distance from the main drag, shades of jade, teal and viridian green mix with cerulean, cobalt and Persian blues in the slack, late winter flow of the Urique River . The turquoise waters trip over salmon and Fandango colored stones and the desert arroyo seems to accomplish nothing more than exist in the dry depths of the canyons. Then, an eyebrow-raising apparition materializes. Black and sleek with chrome-colored trim and tint-obscured windows, the Escalade slowly prowls before the cheery, rainbow colored shops and restaurants that line the dusty street. The misplaced show of opulence and luxury is blaring beacon: Narcos. Drug runners. The wary eyes watch with keenly observant yet unattached vigilance. Though many visitors are slightly unnerved to realize that the realm of drugs possesses a firm presence within the recesses of the canyons, the most adventurous do not withhold from exploring beyond Urique and the marked trails of the ultra course. Wilkinson recounts one special encounter from probing yet further into the canyons: “In one cave the whole floor was littered with skeletons. The population had been wiped out in November 1918 by the Spanish flu. The cave and bodies have remained untouched since. It was an extraordinary moment in time captured and unchanged for 90 years - gives me chills writing about it.” For another participant, the race itself embodies such profound emotion: “Every athlete celebrated as one, accomplishing great personal victories each mile of the way,” Maria Walton says. “It was humbling to realize that the power of the canyons challenged the human spirit on many levels. It was a physical and spiritual awakening, personally enlightening my drive to overcome every obstacle set before me.” Walton, another of the last straggling finishers whose undefeatable spirit left many the spectator emotionally moved, adds that she drew much of her drive from the indigenous women who participated: “The quiet yet determined strength and speed of the Raramuri moved me. The women, who unfortunately live in a culture of little admiration or respect, ran with such grace and elegance. Their bright, colorful dresses were flowing. Their lovely faces absolutely glowing. The communities embraced their competitive abilities, equal to the men." Bezanis says the beauty of the raw canyons is what empowered her most during the race: “Hurting just doesn’t count when the canyons become doused in the red tones of sunset," the veteran CCUM athlete rationalizes. Her sentiment helps reveal the logic behind why ultra athletes attempt such grueling feats like that of running 50 even 100 miles in one day. Nick Coury, the only non-Rarámuri athlete to finish in the top 10 of the 2010 race explains further: “It’s a really curious thing because when you finish these things you feel really tired, often really awful, and you’re not quite sure why you would put your body through that,” Coury says. “But I think that there’s something in the spirit that really values it, that knows that there’s more to what we can do than just sit and watch TV all day… That there’s something powerful in us. And I think that running an ultra is one way of expressing that. That we can do anything we want to even if we can’t imagine it before we do it.” Coury continues, linking the innate urge to run with the unique element offered through the CCUM of running with a exceptionally sheltered indigenous community legendary for its long-distance running talent: “There’s some primitive part of humanity that likes to run and likes to be outdoors and live and the Rarámuri kind of embody that,” Coury observes. Coury’s brother Jamil Coury, draws the same conclusion: “They are the primitive culture that’s down here doing the same thing and there’s a connection there…” Jamil Coury says. “I think it’s something that we’re attracted to and drawn to just to see and experience for ourselves.” CCUM participant Jason Rita says that regardless of the culture, those who run are motivated by the same drive: harmony between humanity and nature. “I’m always trying to get to a place where I feel like I’m totally at one with the environment,” Rita explains. “I run to feel free… where everything is working. Where the breath is working and the legs are working and everything just feels like you’re flying over the ground.” Holmes says he too is fascinated by the union of body with nature that he experiences through completing an ultra: “It just amazes me that we can get our bodies to a point where we can actually feel like we’re just doing what just seems natural…” Holmes says. “I use these as excuses to go explore different areas of the world. I’ve run all over the world, not even races, just doing long runs.” Nick Coury echoes such sentiments: “One of the things I enjoy most about the scenery of an ultra is just how much it changes when you’re running…” Coury says. “It changes so quickly that you look up to a mountain and it seems like instants later you’re up at the top of that mountain, and before you know it you’re back at the bottom again. And beyond that, just how spectacular the view is; seeing how you move is within that beauty, within that scenery is one of the things that I think that I value most about it.” Ultimately, the race is meant to memorialize what many consider to be a complete running experience; one that evokes reverent enchantment: “I embraced every magical moment as it occurred, then and there,” Walton says. “The sun warmed my heart during the day. The mountains continuously blessed my soul. My fellow athletes had strengthened my spirit. And, the moon was absolutely glowing, guiding me closer home.”
If you have any questions on travel or race details, please
*This was originally published by Mas Loco Chris Labbe (Cabro Colorado) as a PDF on http://www.caballoblanco.com/guide.pdf, it has been updated by the Caballo Blanco Ultramarathon team to reflect any current changes.
*The information contained in this guide is from the experiences of Cabro Colorado. If the opinions or experiences of Animales Mas Loco that are not Cabro are used, every attempt to give credit where credit is due has been used.
What is the Caballo Blanco "Copper Canyon" Ultramarathon?
This is a very big question… ultimately the race is an ultramarathon designed to celebrate and encourage the continued development of running as a central element in the culture of the Raramuri Indians of Central Mexico.
In a less philosophic sense, the race is a mountain running festival with multiple days of hikes with the Raramuri, followed by a 51 mile race in the bottom of the Urique Canyon of the Copper Canyons in Chihuahua, Mexico.
The race was originally called the Copper Canyon Ultramarathon. It has since been renamed the Caballo Blanco Ultramarathon to in Memory of Micah True (known to many as Caballo Blanco), the founder of this wonderful event.
Why should I run in the CCUM?
If your goal is to win more races, then you should not be running this race. You might win this race, but that is very much not the point of this event. This is a celebration of running. It is a celebration of the Raramuri. It is a celebration of Central Mexico. The CCUM is an event unlike any race you will find anywhere else.
What’s up with this Korima business?
Korima literally means “sharing without caring” … put another way, give what you can and do not expect any thanks for the giving. It’s strange business for us Americanos. If you give something to a Raramuri they will take it. Sometimes they will acknowledge the gift … most of the times, not. It’s not an insult, it’s the way they live. The reward is in the giving, right?
Who is Caballo Blanco?
Find out for yourself by reading articles posted on the website or by googling “Micah True" Born to Run and “copper canyon ultra marathon”.
Arrgh! I’m trying to plan my trip, but can’t find any schedules or info!
It can be intimidating thinking about navigating through Mexico to find buses and trains that can't be arranged ahead of time. Cabro felt the same way last year. Now that he’s been through it once, he can tell you that it's pretty easy as long as your willing to roll with whatever happens, think on your feet and have no shame for trying to use crappy Spanish in nontouristy places.
How much dinero should I bring?
*ballpark figures only
Hotels will run between $15 & $40 per night, but you will almost always have the opportunity to split room costs. The extended plan is 7 nights and 8 days … makes for around $300 in food and lodging Transportation into and out of the canyon towns will vary depending on your route choices. However, buses/vans from the train in Bahuichivo down and from Urique back up will be $15 to $25 each. Throw in a few other expenses (like paying a Raramuri to make you some huaraches) and $400 would be a fair amount to bring.
Can I use traveler’s checks or credit cards during the trip?
There is very little opportunity to use credit cards, especially in the canyon towns. There is a cash machine in Creel and a bank that can advance cash against your CC. After that, no chance. Traveler’s checks are a similar story. The cambio de checques in Creel or the bank in Creel can convert your checks. Past this point in the journey, it’s basically a cash world. In general, you should convert enough $$$ to pesos in one of the major cities (Los Mochis, Mazatlan, Cuauhtemoc, Chihuahua) and avoid the stress of being peso or cash limited. If you run out of pesos, many of the Mexicans will take $$$ at a favorable exchange to them. This year the normal exchange was around 13p/$1.
I hear the course is unmarked. How will I know where to go?
*The course is now marked with white paint at interserctions and critical points.
There really is no way to get lost on the first spur. It's a road that leads up to Guadalupe Coronado and back down to the river. Then we run up another Canyon on single track to Naranjo. For the 2nd leg, 6+ miles of road is the main part, then cross and follow the river to Los Alisos and the grapefruit orchards. The path is wide and obvious all the way to Los Alisos because of the sponsored trail maintenance. For the 3rd leg, all road back to Guadalupe Coronado and back to Urique.
Do I need camping equipment?
No. Unless you intend to deviate from the basic plan, you will not need any sleeping equipment. You will be “pampered” by central Mexico standards.
Do I need to speak Spanish to survive this trip?
Cabro’s experience says that the Mexican people truly appreciate anyone trying to speak Spanish. Many of them can speak English and will respond quicker after a feeble attempt by an Americano to speak Espanol. However, there will be many people in the group that are either fluent, or can hack their way through. Spanish language is NOT a requirement for joining this adventure.
Can we talk to the Raramuri in Spanish or English?
Maybe … some of the Raramuri will also speak Spanish. They speak a unique language that is not rooted in the latin derivatives. Here is an online translator you can use to entertain yourself.
Where do we stay in Urique?
Sponsored event lodging is at Hotel Estrella del Rio. The Rio is nice enough by Mexico standards, but these are not always as nice as cheap hotels here in the US. A bed and a basic bathroom is what you should expect. Cost should be about $35 per room.
Hotel de los Cañones is on the main street, nice enough old place for about $20 to $30 will be an option.
Campers may pitch tents or get a room/bed at Entre Amigos, about $8-$20 bucks....Nice piece of land, good shower, ect... Los Barrancas at around $40 is available as well. There are many more hotels in Urique an several options available. Reservation in advance is recommmended.
How do I get to the race start? *seriously tight budget (from Caballo Blanco himself)
• Bus to El Paso • Get to the Americanos bus station on El Paso street on the El Paso side of the international bridge. • Buy a ticket on the next bus to Juarez bus terminal earlier the better • AMERICANOS bus will stop at the border while Mexican passengers are having their luggage inspected by Mexican customs, you go into the migra office and get your tourist card...tell the bus driver what you are doing so he waits. This ride will cost ya about $15. • When you get to the Juarez bus terminal, buy ticket on next bus to Chihuahua city (about $30). 5 hours later you will be in Chihuahua city bus terminal. • There will be a direct bus to Creel (about $25) leaving at 2 and 4pm (4 1/2 hour ride). • If you miss all rides to Creel in Chihuahua city, there is a really nice hostel, with rooms right next to the train station. Hostel is owned by a French guy, called Casa De Chihuahua. • Next day get on the early second class train to Bahuichivo, or first class if ya want to spend twice as much money and leave earlier. ALL transport from Bahuichivo station to Urique will wait on the 2nd class trains to arrive....so.....hurry up and wait, or wait and hurry up? Your choice. • Train from Creel to Bahuichivo station is about $15
Semi-tight budget
Fly to El Paso, follow instructions above
Less-tight and I want to ride the train through the lower canyons •
Fly to Mazatlan • Bus to Los Mochis • If you get to Mochis • Catch train to Creel or Bahuichivo
More $$$ less buses
• Fly to Los Mochis • Train to Creel or Bahuichivo • Fly to Chihuahua • Train to Creel or Bahuichivo • Creel to Urique - Catch first or second class train to Bahuichivo for $12 to $24. Then catch public bus to Urique for $12.
What should I bring to the race?
As little as possible. You can rinse/wash stuff in the river or showers. There will be no need to dress up for anything we will do. Everyone will be wearing t-shirts and running shirts. Running shoes and a pair of hiking sandals is enough. If you have more than a big backpack and a small hiking type pack, you are probably over packing.
The Raramuri will graciously accept any small gifts or tokens you might bring. There are several great pictures of La Brujita Jenn Shelton sharing Clif gels with them. This is a sweet treat they are not accustomed to.
For running fuel, you can BYO or use what will be available at the race. Pinole is a very finely ground form of roasted corn and mixes well in water. It makes for a terrific carbohydrate source. Last year Cabro used this and some gel packs as his only fuel source. You can buy pinole in Creel or Divisadero before heading down into the canyons.
Can I drive down to the race?
*Driving info from Caballo It is an awesome drive and fast there is a shortcut over the mountains halfway down the freeway thats right between Juarez and Chihuhua, that avoids Ciudad Chihuahua and brings you out at Ciudad Cuauhtemoc....2 1/2 hours to Creel. Takes about 9 hours total......11 real easy.
More information on driving down can be found on Mexico Horse's website
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Foreign runners, generically called gringos or chabochis, travel from all corners of the world for the chance to run with the Raramuri in a beautiful, remote environment that is sure to leave lifetime memories. After the race, they get called "Mas Locos" and join an international community, rich in human values and new friendships.
The race is held yearly on the first Sunday of March, when the weather in the canyons is not yet in the highs of summer. Race headquarters are in the town of Urique and the event is one of the biggest celebrations in the year for local people, who celebrate the Raramuri as true champions and welcome the Mas Locos and aspiring Mas Locos cheerfully.
To honor Micah's memory and perpetuate this unique event, a group of Mas Locos, helped by many supporters, are currently working at the 2013 event, and beyond.
Register Now or Contact Us to become a Sponsor or Donor of this event!