Motorcycle Adventures in Mexico’s Copper Canyon: Day in Creel and Beyond

Motorcycle Adventures in Mexico’s Copper Canyon: Day in Creel and Beyond

January 19, 2026 – Creel to Copper Canyon Adventure Park

It’s 9 a.m., and I’ve just rolled out of bed—per the unwritten “deal” of this trip. An hour earlier, my snoring apparently woke my buddy, only for me to lull him right back to sleep with more of the same symphony. All’s well. Last night it was steak night for me.

Right now, I’m staring at a small yellow plastic bottle labeled “MARIGUANOL” (the rest in Spanish). It’s an ointment promising relief for pain and a dozen other ailments. Last night, after the spa I rubbed some of that Mariguanol salve on my sore ribs, then my left foot (plantar fasciitis acting up), and before I knew it, my throttle hand, ears, neck, and who knows what else got a dose too.

For just 50 pesos—while my friend Mike splurged on a T-shirt—I scored round magnets for my grandkids Greyson and Wyatt and this miracle salve. Bargain of the trip at 50 pesos.

Our crew of four is based at The Lodge at Creel: Dale on his BMW 1300 GS, Todd on his Ducati Multistrada, Mike on his BMW 1250 GS, and me (Ralph) on my 1250 GS Adventure. Mike already peeled off early toward Batopilas on his GSA, chasing more curves. I’m heading to breakfast, with Dale trailing behind and Todd possibly recovering from stomach issues (he hasn’t, uh, “gone” in three days—prune juice was suggested but, like I always say, you can lead a horse to water but, you can’t make him drink.

The morning chill hits around 28°F at 9:22 a.m.—crisp high-desert air in January. We’re running late not because of weather, but because plans diverge: Dale and I aim straight for the Copper Canyon Adventure Park (~25 miles of twisty roads), while others ease in. The sun works fast here; by noon, it could climb to 65°F.

I arrive at La Cabaña Restaurant—same spot as last night’s excellent dinner. Motorcycle stickers plaster the door, and the coffee setup looks inviting. Breakfast promises to top dinner. The town is stirring: last night it buzzed with tourists, vendors, and Tarahumara (Rarámuri) craftspeople; now shops open, displaying art outside.

The famous El Chepe train just whistled by—passengers ride this historic route through the canyons all the way to Topolobampo near Mazatlán. It’s an adventure in itself. Tour options here include flying over the canyon in a small Cessna or mountain biking down steep trails (six routes!). We opted for the safer (relatively) thrill: fast-paced twisties on our motorcycles to the hotel and then to the Adventure Park.

On long trips like this, quirks emerge. Take Dale: he had “fuel anxiety” on his GS 1300 (smaller tank than my 1250 Adventure’s endless range). He insisted I only had one more gallon—sparked a friendly debate during fueling. This morning, he ordered oatmeal… but got fruit and toast. I teased him about aging and relying on phone translators instead of asking me (fluent enough).

We joked about a new rule: when he states something “true” that I doubt, I’ll say, “Fact-check that, Dale!”—our signal to verify with AI, Google, or reality.

We also swapped stories about spouses. My wife and I have “Buddy Rules” (no talking across rooms to avoid yelling, for one—we’re up to 30 now, though I forget most).

By 10:30 a.m., the ready ones gather downstairs. (Todd’s still dealing with that three-day backup.)

We fuel up in Creel, then hit twisties—smooth in spots, rough in others, crossing railroad tracks with dramatic drops. Soon, the Adventure Park appears. Our first hotel choice looked too rugged, so Dale led us half a mile to a cliffside gem perched right on the rim.

Balconies overlook the canyon, gondola, and zip lines far below. The front-desk woman was a gem: rooms were pricey (7000+ pesos, ~$400+), but she matched a Booking.com screenshot for $297 USD each (solo rooms). The view alone is worth it—we’d dined here before several years ago and loved the food. This will be the first time that Dale and I opted for individual rooms. We’re each needing our individual space and time.

Copper Canyon (Barrancas del Cobre) is a massive network of six canyons in Chihuahua’s Sierra Madre Occidental, spanning 65,000 square kilometers. In places, it’s deeper than Arizona’s Grand Canyon, carved by rivers over millions of years. Home to the indigenous Rarámuri (Tarahumara) people—famous for their endurance running—the area blends dramatic cliffs, pine forests, and traditional cave dwellings.

This afternoon, we’re at the Copper Canyon Adventure Park (Parque de Aventura Barrancas del Cobre). Dale’s tackling the seven-zip-line circuit (plus the world’s longest ZipRider—over 2,500 meters!).

Guides Lupita and Noel explained the hand signals: train-pull to brake, safe-at-home for hold, and turnaround if you won’t make it.

I’m taking it easy—riding the gondola down for canyon-floor views (then back up). Weather shifts: shady spots need a jacket, sunny ones feel balmy. Crystal-clear air lets you see for miles—Tarahumara homes glint far below, trails wind through pines.

Dale’s zipping along, Todd’s resting at the hotel (nursing his stomach), and Mike’s exploring toward Batopilas. Tomorrow we head back toward Yécora (midpoint to Hermosillo), avoiding riskier areas per State Department advice. Then it’s Hermosillo and a short hop to the border.

What a ride—twisties, views, friends, and a little ribbing along the way. Copper Canyon delivers.

More tomorrow—as we start making our way back. 🏍️🌄