El Chepe

Highway 99: the final frontier. These are the voyages of the travel trailer Aloha. Its three-week mission: to explore strange new sites of interest between Bellingham and Chihuahua, Mexico while being pulled by a high mileage Oldsmobile sedan. To seek out new life and new civilizations. To boldly go where no Mitchell family has gone before!

The crew of the Aloha consisted of Captain Dad, First Officer Mom, me (8), my brother (5), my sister (2), Big Nana Mollie (70), and the dachshund wiener-dog Sam.

Because the bread and butter of my dad’s crop-dusting business was at high season in the summer months, we took our vacations during Christmas break. In Skagit County he had a satellite airstrip in which he used the Aloha trailer as an office. In December, with the spray season over, we used the trailer for our vacations.

The year was 1963. I was just beginning my “exploration of imagination” age. My brother and I were kept on a short leash since we were known to explore to the point of getting into trouble.

Our trip that year was to push the old Oldsmobile to its limits by pulling the Aloha trailer down Highway 99, 2152 miles to Los Mochis, Mexico and the same distance home. While in Los Mochis we would take the scenic El Chepe, Copper Canyon train to Chihuahua.

The first leg of our journey was to drop Big Nanna Mollie off at the house of her daughter in Crescent City, California. We called her Big Nanna because, well, she was big. So, with dad driving and my mom and little sister in the front, my brother with Big Nana and I in the back seat, and dachshund Sam in the back window, we headed off . . . for approximately one mile and then returned for bathroom breaks and to check the furnace.

The trip to California was typical. The two brothers sitting side by side fighting for boundary rights the whole way.

“Your pants are touching my pants! Mom, his leg is in my area!” More than once, dad pulled the trailer over to chase the two boys down the shoulder with his belt.

Upon reaching Crescent City, things settled down a bit as we dropped Big Nana off. She, by the way, seemed more than happy to escape the clown car. Now, my brother sat by one door and I at the other with Sam patrolling the neutral zone for infringers.

Weiner-dog Sam

Sam was an irascible smelly dog who enjoyed, among a long list of obnoxious traits: incessant barking, jumping up on your leg for romance, releasing gas, and chasing cats.

We were going through a mountain pass and dad pulled the car over so mom could make us dinner. He parked the trailer alongside another car/trailer rig. Along the edge of the parking lot was a deep ravine. The owners of the other rig had their cat tied with a piece of rope to a tree at the edge of the drop-off. As soon as we let Sam out of the car, he spotted the cat and charged at it full speed while hyper-barking. The cat, sensing that he might be eaten, jumped off the edge of the ravine only to be caught around the neck by his leash which was tied to the tree.

What happened next looked much like a tetherball game. The cat swung around the tree, out over the ravine and touched down on the embankment on the opposite side of the tree only to have Sam waiting for it to arrive. The cat then pushed off and sailed the opposite direction around the tree to the original takeoff point. This happened three times before my dad was able to corral the dog and toss him back into the car. The owner of the cat was not at all understanding, and after quickly hustling the family back into the car, we hastily drove on down the road to find another dining spot.

Rest Stops

There was always something to explore when we pulled over for rest stops. Being it was Christmas, we were each given a few presents for the trip. One of mine was a bow and arrows. Somewhere in Arizona we pulled off the highway in a desert region. It was hot outside and while mom made lunch, my brother and I explored the sage brush. Being from the west side of Washington, we had no experience with identifying the rattling and chirping sounds in the underbrush, but we continued further from the trailer until we came across a dead, sun-dried free-range cow.

Two things happened: the irascible dachshund started rolling on it and I ran back to get my bow and arrows. It was found, that even with the suction cups removed from the arrows, they still would not penetrate the cow hide but would instead make an interesting “boing” sound when they hit. After lunch we drove the next 150 miles with all the windows down to ventilate the dead cow smell wafting off the dog.

My brother and I found that rest stops were possibly going to be our avenue for becoming millionaires. During that time in our lives, pop bottles could be returned to grocery stores for cash. At the rest stops and along the highway, travelers would dump their bottles. In the southwest there were Fanta and Mission bottles all over the ground. We quickly calculated that at a nickel a bottle, we would only need 200 bottles to raise $10.00.

Every time we stopped, we would pick up bottles and place them in the storage area at the back of the trailer which was accessed by an outside door. As we stored more and more bottles, I can remember dad commenting that the trailer seemed to be pulling funny and seemed to be low in the back. After a thorough check at the next rest stop, our dreams of becoming millionaires were dashed as we drove off with our mountain of bottles piled deep in a dumpster.

Mexico

Crossing the border into Mexico was not the security issue it is now. There were no passports needed. We were told that we could enter but that we needed to stop at a station in town to pay a toll or obtain a permit. We followed the directions to the building only to find that it must have been siesta time. A man in uniform sat rocked back in his chair against the side of the building fast asleep, head back and mouth wide open.

“No sense bothering the poor fellow,” Dad said. We continued right on by, but I was sure that at some point there would be a cloud of policía chasing after us on horses.

Los Mochis

After another long day of driving, we entered Los Mochis and found a trailer park next to a fishing village. My brother and I made note that outside the park there was a man who had horses to rent. This was our opportunity to be real cowboys. After much nagging, dad took us over to the gentleman and paid the pesos for two horses. Mounting up and with no guide, or any idea of how to ride the horses, we took off into the sagebrush. This would be comparable today to giving two boys machine guns and saying, “Have fun. Be back in an hour.”

While we were out, a local woman who only spoke Spanish came to the trailer and offered to do our wash for some pesos. This was a nice offer since the old machines in the park were broken. Mom gathered up some clothes to give to the woman, thanked her and watched her carry them away, never to return again.

El Chepe

The next day, we locked the car and trailer, had a young boy in the town watch Sam, climbed aboard an old bus and sat on chicken crates as it drove us to the train depot to catch the Copper Canyon, El Chepe train to Chihuahua.

El Chepe crosses the Sierra Madre Occidental, part of the range that in the United States is called the Rocky Mountains.

It runs 418 miles, traversing the Copper Canyon, a rugged series of canyons that have led some to call this the most scenic railroad trip on the continent. It is both an important transportation system for locals and a draw for tourists. Though the project started in 1900, it wasn’t finished until 1961 because of cost and building difficulties going through the canyons.

The tracks pass over 37 bridges and through 86 tunnels, rising as high as 7,900 ft above sea level near Divisadero (the continental divide), a popular lookout spot over the canyons. Each one-way trip takes roughly 16 hours. There are three trains which make the trip daily, a First Class, Second Class, and freight train bringing fish and produce to Chihuahua. Remembering our train, I assume we were second class. As the First-Class train made a straight shot run with no stops, the Second-Class train carried locals who could stop the train and disembark wherever they wanted. This made our journey longer with many stops.

What I noticed that was particularly sad for us, was that children with birth defects were taken down and left at the train stops with hopes that someone would take them. I saw a crying child, no older than one, sitting on the plank walkway all alone. She had a large growth on her face.

Though the canyons and the scenery were beautiful, the rocking of the train cars, the smell of diesel, and the confined space with no air conditioning, was almost too much to bear for us all. Not being used to Mexican food, I didn’t eat much. None of us spoke Spanish so our entire time in Mexico was like an extended game of charades. To make matters worse, my little sister picked up a bug most likely from something she ate.

When we reached Chihuahua, I remember it being a big city, I remember a doctor coming to the hotel to treat my sister, and being it was Christmas, I remember skinny sweating local men dressed as Santa Claus. I pitied the kids who had never known a jolly, white haired, fat Santa.

After two days in Chihuahua, we turned around and made the whole trip back in the opposite direction. We picked up Sam, we picked up Big Nana, we didn’t pick up any pop bottles, and the old Oldsmobile faithfully got us back to Bellingham.

Some additional thoughts which I will add: In the Aloha, the two bunk beds which my brother and I slept in were canvas held in place by 2″ dowel poles. If the dowels weren’t in their slots correctly, they would pop out and drop us onto the floor below.

“Ah, it’s OK. Kids are resilient,” Dad would say. “Let’s see if we can get his head out of the roaster pan.”

The Grand Canyon, which we stopped at on the way home, was indeed grand and the topper was the day we spent at Disneyland. I must admit though, the tethered pony ride could hardly compare to galloping Mexican horses through the Los Mochis desert sage brush.

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