I just finished reading this fascinating book. Funny thing - I made several trips through many of the same areas as the author at around the same
time, within 4 years or so - one by myself for over a week, camping here and there. He describes the Tarahumara in a way I've never heard before -
and yes, I believe everything he writes - all the marijuana growing, and machismo, and avenging murders, etc. I feel that this book lends itself to a
greater understanding of Mexican culture, as it has evolved in the past generation.
When I traveled to many of these areas, I did not experience anything deleterious. I went into the hills where we heard that drug lords were buying
up the ranches. During the week at one of the ranches, we never ran into any thugs in pick-ups wanting to rob us.
Had a grand time in Batopilas, the Lady's Bar in Creel (where the sign at the door stated "no firearms"; Cumplejo de Anasazi in the pine forest of
Madera.
On one occasion, when I wanted to visit Cuaranta Casas, an Anasazi cliff dwelling site, and found it had closed for the day, I continued down the
highway to find a place in the pine forest to camp. I found that on both sides of the highway (2 lane road), there were fences. I stopped where a
river crossed and eyed the bridge and the open area along the river, wondering if it was safe. It didn't feel that safe. I saw across the road from
where I was parked, a fence with a broad grassy area with trees beyond. Like in baja, I'm thinking, maybe the fence is just to keep cattle from
wandering. I opened the gate and drove down the track covered in weeds, coming to a perfect camping spot near a stream sheltered by low cliffs. I
set up my tent, and a bit later, a bunch of cows wandered through. Just before sundown, a small dog came around the corner, barking at me, and I
scrambled quickly into my car. A man on horseback shortly followed. I got out of the car and approached him, explaining that Cuaranta Casas was
closed, and I drove and drove, and just wanted to stay one night, may I please camp one night here? He said of course. He said he'd come by in the
morning to check on me. He spoke kindly (tone of voice) for a while longer, but I didn't know what he was telling me. Sure enough, the next morning,
he comes by, asks me how the evening went - noticed the door to my tent was broken. I asked him if I could hike around his land, look for birds, and
he said yes. He was so kind to me. And by the way, I found some Anasazi pot sherds in the area where I had camped.
I relate this story as a contrast to the chaotic murderous tales in God's Middle Finger - again, I don't dispute that any of what he says is true, but
I think a single man traveling, asking about narcotraffikers and drugs might have spotlighted him as someone willing to get involved in their
nefarious activities and thus, such occurred, and he found what he was looking for.
In sum, two completely different points of view, but I am glad to know about the "other" side, as a precaution and further understanding of the new
Mexico frontier.
Read the book, and provide your opinion.DENNIS - 7-6-2011 at 08:02 PM
"God's Middle Finger" was an eye-opener for me. It wasn't as hands-on as I had anticipated which led me to believe his research was done in a safe
way. The writing left a bit to be desired as well, but I'd read it again and have given it to friends who were to take trips to Copper Canyon.
From the info in the book, I thoroughly believe the place is as lawless [but not as volatile] as any other place in Mexico. People should only enter
under very controlled circumstances.Marinero - 7-6-2011 at 08:43 PM
The priceless mini-story within the book is where a local takes the hero to an overlook above a beautiful canyon. After agreeing the place is
unspoiled beauty, the local tosses a few bags of trash over the edge before departing.
Not a major spoiler for those who have not read it, I hope........Ken Cooke - 7-6-2011 at 09:39 PM
I need to read this book.
I was with a 4WD group who happened upon two lookouts (in Tubares, Sinaloa) who quickly multiplied into four lookouts with firearms. This situation
escalated *very quickly*. Following the Rio Fuerte from Tubares to Choix to El Fuerte, Sinaloa, the group I was traveling with made it out alive. I
photographed the drip irrigation house that the four men were guarding, the deserted stretches along the Rio Fuerte, and the town of El Fuerte where
we stayed 2 nights. Crazy times.
