In the Shadow of the Carmens: Afield with a Naturalist in the Northern Mexican Mountains

3. Chamiceras

The Moreno, Juárez, and Fronteriza Canyons all flow into Cañón el Álamo (also called San Isidro). About a half kilometer from the juncture of the three canyons with El Álamo is a high mountain road that snakes around the forested slopes and canyons of an area known as the Chamiceras (loosely, burned place). The morning air was crisp but the sun was rapidly warming the canyon bottomasweheadeduptheroadformy firstvisittoChamiceras. The road climbed steadily upward, the vegetation changed rapidly from the lower canyon bottom with its thickets of whitebrush, uña de gato, magueys, and prickly pear, to Mexican pinyon, weeping juniper, and a host of wildflowers and shrubs. I knew this area was reported to have a spectacular waterfall after heavy rains in the higher elevations. Today was my chance to see the waterfall, as last night a rainstorm had pelted the sierras with several inches of rain. The road had been worked recently, enabling us to take the four-wheelers to the top. We bumped along slowly and then crested a high ridge where we stopped to take in the view. Below the crest, the slopes form a huge “U” sloping downward to Cañón Juárez. The old abandoned Casa Juárez was clearly visible in the morning sun. The arroyo was a winding ribbon of diamond-bright water coming down the canyon where it met with the Arroyo Fronteriza and then flowed into the Álamo. To the east the towering spires of Cañón Temblores were dark purple and red in the morning 3 Chamiceras In the Shadow of the Carmens 22 light; farther east, the Serranías del Burro were as blue as the Blue Ridge Mountains of Virginia where I grew up. We headed down the other side from the crest entering the oaks with an understory of muhly grasses. The road curved around and opened into a breathtaking meadow with knee-deep pinyon rice grass and pringle grasses, a natural park surrounded by heavily forested steep slopes. The slopes to the east and north were dotted with old silver and lead mines, all now abandoned. A rusted International truck, circa 1940, remains as a reminder of the past. I wondered how the miners got a two-wheel-drive vehicle up this mountain. The meadow alone is awe-inspiring, and the grasses are lush, the forested slopes a deep emerald green. South on a steep slope a huge rockslide makes a large clear area, and a few ponderosa pines cling precariously to the top of this ridge, silhouetted against a brilliant blue sky. But the true wonder of Chamiceras is not the beauty of this natural meadow or the forest. Just across the canyon, in a maze of sheer red-rock cliffs is a colossal waterfall boiling over the top of a spire, crashing downward with incredible force, snaking over rock overhangs, ending a thousand feet below and disappearing into a thicket of greenery. I could imagine the pool at the base of this cliff—it had to be a churning, swirling mass of water rushing out of the pool and down into the Fronteriza . The rains the night before had created this natural wonder, and it wouldn’t last longer than a Chamiceras waterfall, 2004 23 Chamiceras day or two at the most before trickling to a stop. Then the only reminder of the cascade would be a path carved by the water gushing down the cliff face over the centuries. The sun was quickly heating the air, but still we stood, mesmerized by the falls. In a smaller canyon complex below, yet another waterfall was shooting out of a rock crevice at the cliff base, but it seemed almost feeble compared to the Chamiceras cataract. The canyons open up and wind back to the north for a short distance coming to an abrupt halt where another series of peaks and cliffs reach upward toward the heavens and the higher elevations of the Maderas at Puerta Linces and Puerta Poblano. Right in the middle of the canyon floor are a small house and water tank made of stone; huge cliffs with jagged peaks seem to stand guard over the lonely little house. I could imagine living here and feeling protected by the mountain sentinels, the gods in a Chihuahuan Desert wonderland. At another time we were exploring the old mines looking for bat roosts. One mine at the north end...