Somewhere in the mountain Indian’s timeless spell, framed by stately 18th century Spanish architecture, and peppered with modern electronic gadgetry is a small quiet town whose women are beautiful and men handsome. This Shangri-La, at the very end of paved road leading from the west, is Alamos Sonora, Mexico.
The sun has risen from behind these forbiding ridges, the silence is deafening.
From here, looking east, one’s imagination is stirred by the forbidding, virtually impenetrable
Sierra Madre Occidentals. This is the legendary “Mother Range” protecting Mexico’s great central plateau. Behold ridge after volcanic ridge, separated by deep narrow canyons, marching on for a hundred miles, and climbing to ten thousand feet where giant hawks and eagles soar. The monumental silence is all powerful. Time is reduced to mere sand, worn off of towering rock faces and airborne on the wind. These endless ridges conjure up stark silhouettes of reclining warriors, upon whose barren stomachs humble life persists. Over the horizon, to the southwest, is the famous Copper Canyon region.
Summer time is vibrant as surrounding foothills come alive with green growth.
The eye continues to sweep the horizon and returns, as it always does, to the cathedral’s classically proportioned three-tiered belfry announcing civilization on the half hour.
Past, present and future comes together, in a special way, as one walks down hand swept cobblestone streets listening to laughing children behind bougainvillea-crowned walls.
Here, is the eternal blue sky that is Alamos, Sonora, Mexico.
©2010 Anders Tomlinson, all rights reserved.
