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Diary of a Horseback Trip Day 6:
Something was terribly wrong. Out of habit, I had awakened early - well before sunrise. It was still dark and my senses were confused. The sleeping bag I was in somehow was not mine. There was too much room. Then it hit me, "You idiot, you're in a bed in a hotel - not out camping!". Feeling totally foolish, I drifted back to sleep.
We gathered and headed up the side street to Doña Mica's for coffee and breakfast. Set in the front porch of a house, this is one of those tidbits of local knowledge gleaned from fellow travelers - this is where you go for breakfast, period. I first met Doña Mica some years ago. As we talked, she recalled how it was not long ago in her memory that traveling meant either you walked or rode. The fact that we had come from Cerocahui and Urique on horseback stirred many memories within her. Doña Mica passed away in late 2001 but her family continues to serve meals today. I wondered how many stories and anecdotes of early life here died with her and are now lost. After breakfast, we set out for a guide to take us to Satevó. After some inquiries, we located Manuelito Gill Sandoval. He had a pickup truck and could take us to Satevó and interpret the area. We quickly scrambled into the front as well as the seats in the back and set off. Satevó lies approximately 8 kilometers downstream from Batopilas. Rounding a corner, we could see a small community dominated by the large mission church. One large tower jutted skyward. Even though the church has only one tower, it is referred to as a cathedral.
Jesuit missionaries arrived from the Pacific to the west and built a series of churches in the region. The first mission was at Tubares located to the south and west of here. This was followed by San Ignacio, San Miguel, Santa Ana, and finally Satevó. Of the five, only Tubares and Satevó are still standing - both are being restored. Satevó is supposed to have been originally built in 1664 and was re-built in 1992 after years of neglect. Noting at least one bell in the tower, I wanted to see if I could climb up and read its date. Most of the bells in this region are very similar in shape and have some inscriptions and dates on them. Securing a key to the church, we entered. Construction ladders led partway to the tower but the last part of the climb would have been a pure act of faith. Feeling short on divine luck, I backed away to leave this for another day.
The cavernous interior of the church and the domed ceilings must have taken an enormous amount of time and labor. Besides the construction of the walls and roofline, metal for the bells had to be mined and smelted locally. Carried to the church manually, I can only speculate how the massive bells were lifted into place and secured. Walking around inside, we spotted a grave marker in the middle of the floor. Inscribed in the white outline of the marker is the name and date "Martina V. de Ontiveros - April 24, 1881". Nobody we spoke to knew about Martina's significance nor what position or influence would have allowed someone to have been buried within the interior of the church. One third or fourth-hand local opinion thought a descendent lived near El Paso, Texas but nobody was sure. Apart from this sole marker, one floor stone has the date "1880" inscribed into it. Within the coolness of the church, the temptation to linger was strong.
Back in Batopilas, Manuelito and I set off to see Sheperd's ruins while everyone else retreated for a nap. We drove to the north end of town and parked in one of the few wide areas that allowed other cars to pass. Walking down to the river's edge, we approached a narrow and rickety wooden foot bridge. A narrow and wobbly pathway crossed the river barely above the water level. Disaster beckoned but the worst possible outcome was wet feet - we went for it. Successfully across, the ruins of Sheperd's empire lay before us. Although I had seen part of them before, this time I was with someone who knew their history.
In the 1600s, silver had already been found near present-day Batopilas. The town was founded in 1711. However it was not until the late 1800s that Alexander Sheperd arrived from Washington, D.C. and started the first successful commercial mining operation. As the territorial governor of the District of Columbia, Sheperd had vigorously pursued municipal works construction in Washington, D.C. Chased out of town after also vigorously overspending his budget, Sheperd turned to Mexico.
Sheperd first visited Batopilas in 1868 and returned in 1881 with his family to get the Batopilas Mining Company into full swing. The numerous mines are located across the river from his San Miguel mansion. Cheap Indian labor carried the ore from the mines for processing. The Porfirio Diaz tunnel, named for Mexico's then-authoritarian president, is over seven kilometers long. Occasional free-lance miners still ply its interior today. During Sheperd's tenure, the Batopilas Mining Company produced some twenty million ounces of silver. Collectors today still recognize the unique pattern in the native silver from Batopilas. Ore was initially shipped out of Batopilas by pack-animal train. When this proved impractical, a mill was constructed. Needing electricity for his mill, Sheperd constructed an aqueduct and installed a hydro-electric generating station. The electricity was for Sheperd and the mine, the town was out of luck. Our route into Batopilas from Cerro Colorado had followed the path of this aqueduct. Amazingly the hydro-electric station was still in use in the late 1990s depending on the availability of sufficient water supplies. Three years ago, commercial power was extended to Batopilas and the water turbine retired.
The original iron gates from a hundred years ago still lead into San Miguel. Massive bougainvillea covers some areas. Alongside the outside walls by the river, huge strangler fig trees have spread their roots. As we walked through the interior, Manuelito relayed stories of a wealthy and privileged existence. Foundations for heavy pool tables can be seen - nearby stood the liquor storeroom. Guest rooms had individual fireplaces. Manuelito's details became too much to keep straight. Near the entry gates, Sheperd's private house stood. One story relates how the Indian laborers would line up next to a tube rising to the second story. One at a time, that person's wages would drop through the tube into their outstretched and inverted sombrero.
All too soon, Manuelito's time and mine were gone. We navigated the footbridge back to his truck and returned to the central part of town. Shaking hands and smiling, we parted company. His soft-spoken manner and openness serve him well in his trade - I recommend him as a guide. Ask for him at the Hotel Mary.
Back in the Real de Minas, we still needed to secure some grain for the animals on our trip back. Meanwhile, in the back against a wall, I had noticed copies of some historical items. Another sign of wealthy times - a telegram to Miss Isabel Sheperd. "Sewanee twenty-eight Vanderbilt fourteen hard game nobody hurt hurrae ". Such was the privileged life in Batopilas on November 14, 1892! A side note - for those who enjoy the art of Jesus Helguera, Martin has displayed a number of Helguera prints in the hotel courtyard. Known for their intense detail and color, Helguera's stylized works frequently depict rural Mexican life and have been reproduced on endless calendars. Check it out.
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