Tag: polygamy

Outside Nuevo Casas Grandes, Chihuahua, Mexico to the foothills outside Buenaventura, Chihuahua, Mexico

We survived the Black Widows and will thankfully get to be alive for the greatest spectacle in the free world: election day in America. We have  decided not to seek out the results of the election. As we ride through the rural mountains, we  will let somebody inform us of the outcome in due time. We work on our bikes in the morning, cleaning chains and pulling sharp objects out of tires. I wince as I stand up from a crouch in the sandy wash and move my bike out of the wash. We disregard traffic and brazenly pass all of our gear over the barbed wire fence along the highway. I clip on my panniers and begin once more.

We descend  on a brand new road with a shoulder, a  much deserved reprieve. We barely pedal and let the bikes take us downhill. We are traveling with a map that was given to Brin’s fiance as she bought temporary car insurance for a trip into Mexico. It has no key and the least amount of detail possible. Many of the roads we take do not exist on the map, which gives us plenty of opportunities to speak Spanish. We stop at a roadside….. I am not sure what to call it, although it has an astounding amount of scrap parts and junk for sale… to ask directions.  We continue onwards and eat breakfast in a family’s living room with several gruff truck drivers.

We pass through the town of Galeana and then arrive in a place called Colonia Lebaron named after its founder Alma Dayer LeBaron who started the community roughly 60 years ago to freely fornicate with multiple women tied to him by the sanctity of marriage in pecan orchards he planted. LeBaron was a Mormon Fundamentalist, a polygamist who was forced from the United States and granted refuge by Porfirio Diaz’s government. As we stop for a sandwich and some juice, we meet one of the founder’s sons who speaks frankly about the community. He is one of 48 children left by the founder. The church’s leader and prophet was murdered by his brother in a Machiavellian religious powerplay in 1972. This set of a string of murders that lasted decades  and claimed as many as 25 lives. Andy himself proudly lays claim to five wives and thirteen children. His friend Charles who chats with us pathetically has only two wives and five children. He describes himself as a late bloomer, I describe him as a loser.

‘Do you guys have any connections with anyone in Colonia Juarez?’ Colonia Juarez is another polygamist refuge where Mitt Romney’s father was born.
‘Oh yeah! We have known the Romney family for years. Let’s hope Mitt takes back America.’

Andy tells the restaurant owner that he will pick up the tab for anything we would like and takes off in his massive diesel pickup. We each order a liter of fresh squeezed orange juice and a sandwich. We are then subjected to a rambling soliloquy from Charles; there really is no such thing as a free lunch. You know it is going to be good when it starts out like this:

‘Do you know that there is a new world order being set up?’ He asks in earnest.
‘No…no we didn’t.’
‘George Washington and Joseph Smith prophesied that the thirteen controlling families of the world intend to murder 80% of the worlds population with genetically modified crops and vaccines.’
‘……’
‘The end is coming when the Nephites, the light skinned people of the world, will fight the Lamanites, dark skinned people in a battle of good versus evil. I am not racist, it is just that god decreed in the story of Cain and Abel that dark skin was a sign of evil.’

We try repeatedly to extract ourselves from this discussion, saying goodbye and shaking his hand. At least six times. I have condensed this dialogue for your sake. I nod my head and give monosyllabic answers as my food gets cold.

‘Did you know that particle physics has finally proven what Joseph Smith said about everything being infinitely divisible?’
‘No…..’
‘Dark matter propagates its force at 80 billion times the speed of light, finally allowing us to reach the next galaxy in 1/10th of a second. This is god’s force. I have some videos that I would like to show you guys if you would come to my house with me?’
‘Oh um, we need to try and make some miles on our bikes, but thank you.’
‘I am going to a wedding later as well if you want to come. China and Russia are going to attack America, a fight we will almost lose until the moment when god intervenes. God’s kingdom on earth will rise in Central America, amongst the Mayans.’ He is fervent.

I desperately want to ask him how god’s kingdom is going to rise amongst the swarthy sinners of the Yucatan and Central America, but I relent.

‘In Colonia Lebaron we have had problems with violence as of late, with the mafia. This place is supposed to be a peaceful refuge for anyone, with any background. We say respect is peace, like Benito Juarez. We have taken on the cartels, we have a sniper positioned in that tower on the hill over there that overlooks town. They killed a few of our brothers. We all carry guns now. You can read about us on the internet. I also sell some medicine on the internet, it cures nearly everything. Here is the address of my website if you guys are interested in ordering some of it.’’
‘Interesting…’ Again, someone in Mexico talking to us about snipers watching us. That makes at least two occasions that Brin and I have been threatened with snipers while traveling here.

A girl comes into the restaurant and introduces herself as Elsy. She is pregnant as is every other woman that we see waddling through town.

‘You boys are in the wrong part of Mexico.’ She knowingly warns us.
‘Why is that?’

She walks away. We finally extract ourselves from this place after speaking English with some white Mormon Mexican cowboys who are sipping on glasses of carrot juice. I am mentally exhausted from the 45 minute tirade. I had read that the townspeople here are often more mixed up with the cartels than they will admit, for obvious reasons.

Our last stop for the day is in Buenaventura, where we buy four kilograms of oranges, pecans, honey, water and steaks. Our ascent into the Sierra Madre Occidental begins in earnest at this moment. We follow a long straightaway where we stop as my bike is making a racket, my front rack is nearly falling off. Lesson: periodically tighten bolts.

We climb, grinding it out at 9 km/hr. I come to learn that climbs always look worse than they are. It is just a matter of persistence. We are rewarded with steep short downhills that are succeeded by another significant climb each time. The smell of marijuana emanates from several cars that pass on their way out of the Sierra. We come into sight of the big climb into the Sierra before Ignacio Zaragoza. Camping in this area poses a significant problem as the ground is littered with Cholla and other vicious spiny succulents that will surely wreak havoc with our tires. We stop in front of a ranch gate with a corral and a dilapidated building. We decide to climb the following day. We scout it out and nobody is home. We look both ways and then start passing our gear over the fence again. We set up camp on the concrete slab dated to 1968. The roof has fallen in on the structure, but there are fresh horse tracks and manure.

We feast before the day dies. We vow to leave at first light, lest we be caught here by the owner. Cattle forlornly moo throughout the canyon, the echoes bouncing off the walls. A chilly down canyon breeze sends me into my sleeping bag.

Guerilla camping is strange. It feels so exposed, yet so free and right. We leave no trace and only occupy the ground. I am so tired that concerns over safety easily fall by the wayside. The coming days promise to be tough, but rewarding. We are entering an area infrequently traveled by tourists and with insignificant local traffic. It promises significant climbs, but incomparable scenery. New types of cactus are appearing already: ocotillo, prickly pear and cholla. Traffic dies completely as I lay in my sleeping bag staring at the stars.

I awaken with adrenaline instantly coursing through my veins as three horses gallop through our camp in the middle of the night. I am quickly calmed as I watch them strangely play with one another and give chase, their forms only visible as silhouettes in the moonlight.

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