This trip into the Copper Canyon was set up with Rosen's Rides. The plan was to head deep into the lower canyons, have a SAG truck carry our gear, and travel light and fast. The added bonus of not having to worry about hotels, food, etc., was the clincher. Pretty much, it was a roll out of bed onto the bike, ride like a nut, roll off the bike into the bar, and then sleep.

Perfect.

DAY 1:

My out west riding buddy, Killer, and I hooked up with Justin Lopez, of Rosen's Rides fame. Killer rides my ex-bike, a dual sported and hot rodded '00 XR600R. I took my '01 640 Adventure [Diezel's old bike]. The rest of our group was made up of two hilariously funny California Policemen, a rather well known motojournalist that is also an ex-Green Beret, and an ex-Marine fighter pilot.

Tough company, and damned good guys. Killer and I beat it to Douglas, arriving at 2130, way behind the rest of the guys. It was cold, below freezing, when we arrived. Justin found us within minutes, and offered to take us to the border to do the paperwork polka. Since we were late getting there, we knew Justin had some things to do, and having been through the drill before, so we headed down to the border and got our paperwork done on our own. No problemo. Our motel room was small - no way the bikes would fit inside, and the temperature continued to drop.

Dinner consisted of Fritos, beef jerky and Coors Light at 2300. Some cheesy flick was on the idiot box. I don't know if was even in English.

Morning, as usual after a few beers, came fast. We packed up our crap and tossed it into Justin's truck. SAG wagons rock, when you have them available. Traveling light and quick is something I am used to, but the thought of carrying nothing but repair stuff - and not having to lug 30 lbs of gear on your bike makes them much quicker and more responsive. And you have the added benefit of knowing the SAG runs sweep, and even if your bike or you goes NFG, the truck can pick you up. I like it, it's a great change of pace for me.

The temp was about 20F when we went for a breakfast of huevos revueltos con chorizo - and lotsa coffee at the historic Gadsden Hotel. The last time we were headed to Copper Canyon, Killer and I stayed in the Gadsden. It's a really cool old hotel.

At the moment of reckoning, Killer's bike would not light off. Too cold. Before I started laughing at him, the Adventure decided it wouldn't light off either - at least not on the electric starter. The rest of the group took off without us. No biggy, I know the way to where we're going and told Justin we'd catch up. After an hour of screwing around, I finally push started Killer's bike. The Adventure lit off after a few prods on the kicker, and away we went.

We flew along Chihuahua 2 towards Janos at a good clip in an attempt to catch the other four guys. As we passed the dirt road that was our last trip in Mexico, I longed for the dirt instead of the highway. We raced through Janos, and then turned south. I could see the guys as we hit the checkpoint north of Casas Grandes, but we were detained for about 5 minutes. We finally caught the sag in town, and caught up to the group at Galeana, where the road forks again.

The group consisted of two KLR650's, a Yoshi equipped DRZ400, an sweet sounding LC4E, Killer's unbelievably loud XR600R, and my Adventure. The tire of choice appeared to be MT21's, although we had some 606's and whatever came stock on the '04 KLR.

It never warmed up to more than about 40 degrees, and the trip was cold. The skies to the west looked ominous, and I knew rain was coming. But this is the dry season, right? It never rains here this time of year. Impossible.

As we droned along, I couldn't get that song Mexican Radio by Wall of Voodoo out of my head. I probably should have worn a tin foil hat under my helmet.

We holed up in Gomez Farias for the night. It gets dark early this time of the year, and we all elected to not ride at night. After 240 miles in the cold, Gomez Farias seemed the likely choice to rest up to make an easy 150 mile run to Creel in the morning.

The skies looked bleak at sunset, and it was cold. After acquiring a load of Modelos and chowing down on beef arrachera, we settled in our room, and drank a billion cervezas. All but one.

Have you ever watched Kubrick's Full Metal Jacket in Spanish? Surreal.