We hope the snow melted enough back home to allow all the little goblins and ghouls to get out trick or treating.    Halloween isn’t such a big thing here.    Some children dress up, and make the rounds, but only if they live in close proximity to other houses.    Decorations are few and far between.    The owners of the RV park have two school age children, a girl seven and a boy four.   I bought them some candy at a corner store and gave it to them this afternoon wishing them a Happy Halloween.   They said they wouldn’t be dressing up or going out, but seemed pleased with their treats.

When we arrived here last Tuesday the humidity was unusually high.    I broke into a sweat just sitting in the chair, thinking.   I am told that this is a holdover from the rainy season.    Locals and campers alike have stated that generally by the first week in November the humidity lifts and pleasant ocean breezes are the norm.    The sun is up by 7.00AM and by 9.00AM I have been getting readings of 90 degreesF on the thermometer on the trailer.    If you have any work to do, early in the morning or later in the afternoon are the best times.    After that forget it.   It is just too hot.

My day started at 5.30AM when I took Sunny for a nice long walk on the beach.   We met another Canadian from Victoria on the beach, and learned that he has been coming to Lo de Marcos for many years.  He and his wife rent a condo just down the beach from us.   Retired from the British Columbia school system, Ray related that when he first started coming here there were only two RV campgrounds.   Now there are seven.  He has watched Lo de Marcos change from a sleepy, little fishing village to a tourism mecca.    He told me that in the next couple of weeks more and more tourists will be arriving, primarily Canadians from BC and Alberta, although there are some from Ontario and Quebec as well.    Social activities will be held on the beach, including fund raisers for a local school the tourists support that teaches English to the Mexican youngsters.   It sounds like fun times ahead.

Having worn out Sunny I decided it was my turn.   I went for a walk southward on the paved road that runs behind the trailer park.    After a couple of kilometres the pavement ends and it becomes a sandy, dirt road.  I continued on for another kilometre, and came upon a small cement block house that was cordonned off from the road by a crude barb wire fence.   Two Mexican gentlemen were sitting outside talking, so I asked if I could have their permission to enter their property to get access to the beach beyond.   They looked at each other and I could tell they were thinking not another loco gringo.  They finally consented to my passing and chuckled to one another as I made my way to the beach.    Thinking I could walk the beach back to the trailer park I quickened my step.   Once my feet hit the sand, I realized that the two beaches were separated by rocky outcroppings and with the tide high there was no way I could follow my intended route.

This little beach is called Playa de Mintas, and I later learned that at one time there was a small seaside restaurant located there.    The building remains but in no longer operational.

Playa de Mintas with vacant restaurant in background.

Unable to return to camp by the beach, and too embarrassed to retrace my steps passed the grinning Mexicans, I began to search an alternate route.   The shoreline here was rocky, rugged, and rose steeply about 300 feet.   There appeared to be a small path leading up the hill and through the jungle, but wearing only sandals I debated about the feasibility of such a climb.   In order to save face, I decided to risk it.   By grabbing onto exposed tree roots, and pulling myself up the hill I eventually made it to the top.   The path was well worn, but narrow.   Obviously, I was not the only crazy gringo who had tried the impossible beach return route.    

As I started trudging down the path, pushing aside undergrowth and stepping on fallen palm frawns, I couldn’t help but think back about some of the trails I had walked in Algonquin Park where the bush was so dense you couldn’t see but a few feet in front of you.    This jungle path was similar, the only difference being that I was making this trek in 90 degree weather.   Keeping a wary eye for tarantulas and scorpions I carefully chose each step.   After about ten minutes of climbing up and down the steep terrain, I came to a spot were the trees thinned out and I was able to get nice view of the Lo de Marcos beach.

View of Lo de Marcos beach from jungle path.

Continuing on, the path dropped steeply over a distance of roughly 200 feet and brought me down to the water’s edge where I got a glimpse of the rock point I hadn’t been able to navigate.

Rocky point separating the two beaches.

Back on firm footing I was not long making it back to camp.   With sweaty clothes hung up to dry, and a cool drink in hand, I was not sure who was more worn out from the morning excursions, Sunny or me.  

Shortly after noon, I drove to La Penita to the Banomex to change dollars for pesos.   Made a quick stop at la tienda Don Pedro to buy some potatoes, and visited La Esperanza Taqueria y Carniceria, where I bought four nice rib eye steaks for 85 pesos ($6.68 US).    Reported to be one of the better places locally to buy fresh meat, arrangements were made with the owner Rigoberto (Rigo) Ibarra, that I could telephone meat orders to him, giving him a couple of hours notice, and he would prepare the order, place it in the freezer so that when I arrived the order would be ready, and I wouldn’t be delayed.   Pretty darn good service.

When I returned to camp Nicole, Sunny and I spent a pleasant afternoon on the terrace, at the beach.   There was a nice breeze from the ocean, that tempered the humidity somewhat.    I tried snorkeling 100 yards off the beach, but found the water too murky to see anything.    The constant pounding of the surf being the culprit.

A supper of BBQ’d chicken, tomato rice, and green beans, topped off with a little guitar playing and singing for dessert brought to a close another great day in Mexico.

Happy Halloween everyone.

Having had a couple of days to settle in, and become acquainted with the place it would seem timely to document some observations.   First impressions are this is truly a tropical paradise.    The beach is nicest we have seen in Mexico.   It is clean, about 2 kilometres long, nicely sloped to the Pacific ocean, lined with coconut palm trees, and not too crowded.   I am sure this will change in a couple of weeks when more and more snowbirds begin to arrive.    There are roughly eight small RV parks in Lo de Marcos, some with beach frontage and others located about one block from the beach.    Most of the parks have only one or two campers at this point, mainly Canadians from British Columbia and Alberta.   

Beach view looking north from where we are camped.

There are no sea shells here because the surf pounds the beach with gusto, especially at high tide.   Upon arrival, we noticed that it was quite humid, with daytime temperatures in the 90’s F.    At night it cools down nicely to the low 70’s with a pleasant breeze.  

The park we are in, El Caracol Bungalows and RV Park, has been in existence for some 30 years, and is currently operated by the son and daughter-in-law of the original owner who passed away last November.

Both Veronica and Manuel have been friendly, accommodating, and easy to deal with, answering the many questions any newcomer might have.    The landscaping in the park in incredible, with almost every kind of tropical plant possible, on display.   From flowering plants to fruit trees its all here, even floating gardens intended to attract dragonflies and butterflies.   Each trailer site is separated by a garden of tropical plants.  

Sign indicating the park we are in.

There are approximately 16 RV sites and a good number of bungalows for rent.   At this writing there are two other campers here besides us and roughly five of the bungalows have been rented, short-term.    We understand from the owners that within the next two weeks more campers will be arriving.   

We are settled in site #8 that is roughly 30 metres from the small swimming pool and beach. 

Our site, not far from the beach.

 There is a large terrace that houses the swimming pool, equipped with tables, chairs and umbrellas.    A walkway lined with tropical plants ushers you to the terrace.

Walkway leading to oceanfront terrace.

Here is a view of the terrace and swimming pool.

Swimming pool and terrace.

The ambiance here is laid back, relaxed, and friendly.   Lo de Marcos has small corner stores that provide the basic necessities.   If you are looking for something out of the ordinary,  La Penita or Puerto Vallarta are the places to go. 

For anyone visiting Mexico for the first time, patience is a virtue.   For example,  I was looking to buy some good cuts of beef for the BBQ.    The park owner referred me to a butcher in La Penita that usually provided a good product.   I drove to La Penita, about 20 kilometres, one afternoon about 2.00PM only to find the business closed.    Another example, I needed a haircut.   The only unisex salon in Lo de Marcos is operated by a teacher at the local elementary school.   One afternoon about 12.30PM I walked a couple of kilometres to the salon only to find it opened at 4.00PM.    All was not lost however, as I met a friendly Mexican, Felix Miguel, who invited me to wait at his place until the salon opened.   He placed a couple of plastic chairs on the sidewalk, produced a bottle of Jose Cuervo Traditional tequila and after a couple of drinks I was almost able to speak Spanish flawlessly.   Felix introduced me to his friends, neighbours,and passers-by and in no time I had thirty new friends.    Before I knew it, it was 4.00PM and off I went for my haircut.  By this time the lady barber could have cut my hair with a machete, and I couldn’t have cared less.   That Jose Cuervo sure knows how to make tequila.

During our second afternoon here, I was sitting under a palm tree on the beach when a young, gusto Mexican appeared on the beach next door, and lifted the back end of a 14 foot aluminum boat and dragged it across the beach to the water’s edge.   There was no motor on the boat so with curiousity I watched him turn the boat around with the bow pointing out to sea.    He was intently focused on the incoming swells, and with the precision of a Swiss watchmaker, he pushed the boat out into the crashing waves, and jumped aboard.    He produced, from the bottom of the boat, a double bladed paddle, similar to that which might be used in a kayak.   In the blink of an eye, he turned the boat around with the stern heading out to sea, placed a small board across the gunwale near the nose and sat down on it.   He then paddled out to sea for roughly 2 kilometres and appeared to be fishing.    The last I saw of him he was still a long way from shore as the sun was setting.

Mexican fisherman paddling out to sea.

Today, the park owner engaged another man, Victor from La Penita, to trim his palm trees.    This work involved climbing to the top of the trees, using a crudely designed rope system, and cutting coconuts and unwanted branches.   Victor, a man of 50 odd years, told me he had been doing this kind of work all his life.   Some of the trees were 40 to 50 feet high, and Victor mounted them bare-foot with ease.   Knowing it was dangerous work I asked him in my broken Spanish if he had ever been injured.    He told me that a few years ago he fell out of a tree, broke his right foot and was layed up on crutches for eight months.   As Victor did the cutting, I assisted Manuel with removing the debris to his waiting truck.   We then drove into the jungle and discarded the large branches beside a rutted, dirt road.   He showed me a giant fig tree that I suspect was quite old, because it was at least 4 feet in diameter.   Manuel stood next to the tree to give some perspective to the following photo.

In Mexican jungle. Manuel with giant fig tree.

After working hard in the 90 degree weather a shower never felt so good.    We are thoroughly enjoying our stay in this wonderful, tropical setting.   We received a couple of emails from back home and learned that there was a snow storm October 29th with reports of between 15 and 30 centimetres depending on the region.   No need to shovel here.   I think I’ll put my feet up, open another Corona, and say to the folks back home, ” Can you dig it.”  Snow that is. 

 

 

        

As mentioned in my previous post, we changed our plans, foregoing stops at Teacapan and San Blas because of reports of road washouts, and squadrons of hungry mosquitos ready to feast on unsuspecting gringos.

The evening of October 26th, just before dark, a motorhome from British Columbia pulled into Villa Celeste for a one night layover.   We spoke briefly with the couple, and they informed us they to were heading to Lo de Marcos.   This was they first time into Celestino Gasca and they were unsure how to get back to the toll road.   So arrangements were made that we would lead them back to highway #15 in the morning.

We both departed Villa Celeste at 6.30AM and took it nice an easy going out the rutted, sandy road.   We told the other couple, who decided to follow us, that we would be stopping in Mazatlan for fuel.    We got back on the toll road after negotiating numerous topes, without incident.    Heading south in a mini-convoy we travelled through winding mountainous terrain.    With a toll booth approaching I was concentrating on having the appropriate pesos in hand, and when I looked in the mirror, the motorhome was nowhere in sight. The B.C. couple had been towing a small SUV behind their large motorhome so Nicole and I thought they may have stopped to double check their connection.    We pulled into a gravel area and waited for 15 minutes, but there was no sign of them.   We decided to continue on to Mazatlan, fuel the truck, and wait for them there.    That we did, but again no sign of them.    With over 300 kms to go to reach Lo de Marcos, we couldn’t wait any longer, so on we went.  We heard later from other campers that left Villa Celeste after us, that we met in Tepic, that the SUV the motorhome had been towing had caught on fire and was totally destroyed.   Luckily, the BC couple were able to get it detached from the motorhome before further damage was done.   It was suspected the SUV may have blown a tire, and being hidden from view eventually generated enough heat to cause the fire.   Obviously, their trip was delayed filing police reports, and awaiting insurance adjusters.

We were told that the toll road bypassed Mazatlan, but in reality you do travel through part of the city albeit the outskirts.   We followed road signs indicating the route to Tepic, until I missed a left turn to get back onto the toll road, and we ended up on the Tepic Libremente (free road).    A couple of miles down the road I was able to find a spot to turn the rig, and we headed back towards Mazatlan.   As we neared the place where I missed the turn, we were stopped at a military checkpoint.   The corporal (about 20 years old), asked in spanish, ” Esta tu casa” ( Is this your house).   To which I replied, “Si, vamos a Tepic.” (we are going to Tepic)  He said okay and waved us on.   The rest of the trip to Tepic was uneventful, although there were some long climbs up the mountains, and we made it there by 11.30AM.

We fuelled up with diesel, sandwiches, burritos, and cokes at the first Pemex gas station we came to.   While giving the truck a breather, and enjoying our picnic in the Pemex lot, amidst gas fumes, and the noise of groaning tractor trailers trying to make it up the steep grade, a red half ton with a middle aged Mexican and four younger fellows pulled up and parked in front of us.   I noted that in the back of the truck was some kind of equipment but never paid much attention, thinking they were construction workers just stopping for a break.   

After a couple of minutes the older gentleman asked, ” Puede limpia la camionetta y remolque?” (Can we clean your truck and trailer).   At this point I noticed that the equipment in the back of the half ton included a water tank and gas powered spray washer.   Now to say that our rig was dirty would be an under-statement.   After blowing sand at Huatabampito and the dusty, rutted road in Celestino Gasca,  one would think our truck and trailer had been equipment used in “Desert Storm”.    After a bit of haggling it was agreed the group of men would wash the truck and trailer for 200 pesos.   They set up there equipment, and after repairing leaking hose connections, fired up the sputtering gas sprayer.    Within seconds the manager of the Pemex station came over, and told them politely to take their business elsewhere as he didn’t want his lot full of Huatabampito sand.    The mobile car wash was quickly re-routed around the corner on the side of the road in front of a taco stand.    The manager there was quick to react motioning that they were not welcome there either.    Next door was a business that repaired leaf springs on large trucks.   The owner came out and said they could wash the truck and trailer in front of his place as the water would keep the dust down.   The business owner graciously offered us plastic chairs to sit on while waiting for the wash job, however when I saw that the former white chairs were now black and covered with grease I just as graciously refused.   We had fun with them all, kidding, and joking.    I have always found Spanish speaking people have a great sense of humour, so I showed them a fisherman and farmers handshake and they all roared with laughter.   To make a long story longer, the mobile car wash did an excellent job.   They even put Armour-All on the truck and trailer tires.   A 50 pesos propina (tip) for a job well done, brought a smile to their faces.

By this time it was almost 1.30PM, so we thanked everyone for their hospitality, and were on our way.   Tepic is a city high in the mountains and I believe the elevation is rough 3,800 feet above sea level.    The remaining 100 kilometres or so was going to be all downhill.   We left the toll road after the fourth overpass in southern Tepic and entered a narrow, winding two-lane highway #200.   This road is the principal route from Tepic to Puerto Vallarta, so it is heavily travelled by double-long transport trucks, buses, cars and trucks.    I am not sure if Mexican drivers have suicidal tendencies, or just drive with machismo.   But one thing I am sure of is they don’t pay attention to speed limits, and are consummate risk takers.   As we descended down the mountain there were many places with blind corners, sharp curves, and steep grades.  In order to control our speed of descent I used either third or second gear rather than riding the brakes.  All of a sudden you would round a “curva peligroso” (dangerous curve) and be faced with a big transport truck or bus coming up the mountain.  Because the lanes were narrow with little or no shoulder there was little margin for error.   The Mexican drivers were passing us in places you wouldn’t think it was possible.   Evil Knivel paled by comparison.   Many spots were marked with small crosses, and flowers.   Grime reminders of those who didn’t finish the trip down the mountain.   Nicole remained calm throughout the descent, although I did have to pry her fingers off the dashboard when we reached the bottom.  

We passed through many small villages such as Las Varas, La Penita, Rincon Guaybitos, El Monteon once down on the valley floor.   Finally, after a long day on the road we saw a road sign indicating a right turn into Lo de Marcos.

Lo de Marcos is a typical small Mexican town of roughly 2,000 inhabitants.   It is dusty, the roads are narrow, made of cobblestone, rough with hidden topes.    As we slowly made our way down the main street, Luis Echeverria, it was like playing dodge-ball.   It was bad enough to have trucks coming towards you, that were intent on playing a game of Mexican chicken, but you had parked cars, people on motor scooters, bicycles, pedestrians, children playing in the street, and the occasional sun tanning dog, to contend with.   And to make matters worse I missed a left turn, and had to back rig up a block amid all this chaos.

After passing several RV parks, we arrived at a white coloured building that had “El Caracol Bungalows and RV Park”, boldly painted across the exterior wall.    It was with a certain degree of satisfaction and relief that I exited the truck to check out our new winter home.   After roughly 8,500 kilometres it was great to finally reach our tropical destination.  The owners, Veronica and Manuel Massens were not present when we arrived, but after a telephone call Manuel arrived shortly thereafter.   There was only one other camper in the park at this time, so after a quick check of their reservation list we were escorted to site #8, near the beach.    After considerable manouvering and Manuel moving many pots of tropical plants, I was able to back the trailer to its resting place.    The saga continues, please stay tuned.   Photos to follow.    Just got internet access through a third party on October 29th at 5.00PM.

Clad in blue jeans, long sleeved shirt, and with a shot of Muskol our coffee, we waged battle with the squadrons of mosquitos while packing up.   The day before we had strong northerly winds that covered the truck and trailer with a layer of fine, powdery sand.   Needless to say, by the time I had everything stowed I could have been mistaken for the sandman himself.   We pulled out at 6.30AM heading back to Huatabampo in order to get back on the toll road.

We had originally planned to spend a day or two at Mr. Moro RV park near Guasave, but fresh off 4 days of rest and relaxation we decided to push on further.     By putting extra kilometres behind us today we would benefit in the future with shorter distances to travel between RV parks.    We navigated a short-cut on a secondary road and avoided one of the toll booths, entering highway 15 a few kilometres to the south.  Like most of the trip, traffic on the toll road was light, and the pavement in reasonable condition.   The posted speed limit for part of the trip was listed at 110 km/h.   The only slow downs were for the famous topes, rest breaks, military checkpoints, and toll booths.

We left the toll road, and entered the  city of Culican in search of a grocery store.    With no las tiendas on the outskirts ventured into Culican Centro and finally located a Ley supermarket.   After placing the provisions in the trailer, we continued up the four lane looking for a place to turn the rig around.   I turned left at a cross street and as luck would have it, it was the only one way street we’ve encountered in Mexico.  And wouldn’t know it a police truck was coming down the street towards us.   He hit the siren, flashed his lights, I waved at him, gave him a big smile, and veered off to the the right onto another street and was up over the hill in a flash.   Never did see the policeman again.   We eventually made it back to the toll road, and continued on our way.

Just passed Culican we noticed road signs announcing the toll road was changing to the “Maxi-Pista”.  This stretch of toll road from Culican to Mazatlan is reported as being the most expensive.   I guess that’s were the “maxi” comes in.    At the first toll booth It cost me 226 pesos ($16.87 US or $21.56 Cnd-based on Oct 24th exchange rates).    Apparently there is a toll booth before Mazatlan, and another between Mazatlan and Tepic.  When we reach Lo de Marcos I will tally receipts and report total tolls paid for the one-way trip.

We made good time on the Maxi Pista.   It was relatively straight, in good condition, and enroute we passed kilometre after kilometre of large agricultural plantations.    Potatoes, corn, watermelon, tomatoes seemed to be the most abundant crops being sold a small roadside stands.

At kilometre marker 78, north of Mazatlan, we turned right off the toll road entering the small, dusty town of Celestino Gasca.  The road in the village was paved, but had many unmarked topes so we took our time until we eventually crossed railroad tracks and could see the Pacific.     At this point signs indicated the RV parks were to the left up a sandy road that ran parallel to the railroad tracks, behind a sports field.   Other than being dry, and dusty the road seemed to be in good shape, until we got past the sports field.   Where the road entered scrub brush it remained dry but became deeply rutted.   Evidence of rainy season past.  We had to mount a couple of small hills, so low gear and four wheel drive came to the rescue.    By this time Nicole, who is normally a good navigator, had worn out one of her sandals from putting on the brakes on the passengers side.  

We passed a couple of RV parks not sure if they were open.   From my research on the internet there was one park at the end of this road that I wanted to check out.   When we arrived out front a large metal gate appeared to be locked.    I asked a Mexican gardener in an adjoining property if the park was closed.   He said no that the gate wasn’t locked we could open it and drive in.   That we did, and drove about 1/2 kilometre to the only trailer in the park that was located near the beach.   A suntanned chap exited the trailer, and thinking it was the owner I asked about obtaining an electric site.    This fellow, who I later learned was from northern Alberta, chuckled at my request, and told me the park was not open until the 1st of November.   Apparently he had found the gate unlocked, entered, and made himself at home.   He was dry camping with no electricity or water.  

This particular park was very narrow with  palm trees lining the sites, and roadway.   I found I was unable to turn the truck and trailer in this confined area, so I had two options.   One was to unload the trailer, and then reattach the truck at a angle that would permit me to turn, or back all the way out.    Having just completed over 500 kilometres, I chose the later.   With a bit of manouvering we were able to back out and get turned back in the direction we had come.

The only park that had any signs of life was the first park we had passed on the way in.   The name of the park was painted on a cement block wall ” Villa Celeste Resort.”  By sounding an intercom attached to the large metal gate I was able to arouse a young man who came to unlock the gate.   Upon entering the grounds there was only one other camper visible, so we chose a spot and got things set up.    A short time later the owner of the park arrived and introduced himself as Noe Robles.    He was friendly, helpful and stated if we needed anything all we had to do was ask.

Nicole & Sunny relaxing at our site in Villa Celeste

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The park was exceptionally clean, well landscaped, with many fruit trees including banana, papaya, mango, coconut, carissa, mixed in with many different flowers and shrubs.    

                                                                                                                                                                                                  

One of many gardens at Villa Celeste.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Villa Celeste was fully equipped with a laundry, store, washrooms, showers, small pool that included a BBQ area, and a palapa at the beach complete with tables, chairs and hammocks.   The owner advised me that six years ago he started to build the park, but that it was only four years ago that he started renting  RV sites, and that most of his customers were referred by word of mouth.

BBQ and swimming pool area.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The beach here is completely different from others we have visited.   Here you have large waves, off a rocky point that make it a popular surfing destination for North Americans and Mexicans alike.    The waves on a good day can reach 10 to 12 feet high.   The beach is wide, the sand ranges from brown to black in some areas, and rather than seashells there are small, smooth, sand washed stones.

Surfer catching a wave.

I spoke with a couple of surfers that flew in from California  just to surf here.   They told me that this time of year the surf is excellent here and that the swells originate off New Zealand and travel roughly 5,000 miles before crashing on the Mexican shores.     The morning is the preferred time to surf as off-shore breezes hit the face of the wave, making the tops peak higher.   Later in the fall the swells change and come from the Aleutian Islands to the north which makes California surfing more desirable.

The coastline is rugged here with rocky points, and you can see sand banks 10 feet high that have been eroded by the non-relenting waves.

Surf pounding on the rocks.

Another interesting difference between here and other places we have visited is the apparent lack of fishing. We saw a few large, commercial shrimp boats off in the distance, but there were no small pangas operated by local fisherman as we had seen elsewhere.    Instead the locals dive for oysters.    Equipped with an inflated car tire inner tube, with a net firmly affixed in the centre of the inner tube, a long rope with an anchor, a diving mask, swim fins, and a steel bar similar to a crowbar, they swim out from shore several hundred feet and disappear below the surface, popping up every one in a while for air.    They deposit the oysters they dig off the bottom into the net, and when it is full swim back to shore.   They unload the oysters from the net, each diver having a separate pile.   Some divers even marked their pile with a piece of clothing like a sock.    Then they went back out to sea to harvest another load.  At the end of the day the oysters were loaded into mesh orange sacks, and hauled to a truck on shore.  One diver told me the preferred way to eat them was raw with Mexican salsa.   

One afternoon I took a walk down to the public beach were the Mexicans frequent on weekends.   There were a few palapas built above the beach and I noticed that had used railroad track to act as roof trusses.   

Railroad track used to support roof of palapa.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Further along the beach I came across some goats that were roaming free from place to place in search of their next meal.   

Goats free-ranging just back of the beach.

One of the highlights of our four days at this wonderful resort were the beautiful sunsets.   It seemed to be tradition that campers gather under the beach palapa in anticipation of the setting of the sun.

Noe’s wife, Esthela, provides massage therapy for guests at the resort.   Both Nicole and I availed ourselves of this service and came away totally relaxed and refreshed.

We thoroughly enjoyed this park and the friendly family that runs it.     We were made to feel at home in the tradtional Mexican sense where “mi casa es su casa.”   We would highly recommend this resort to anyone wishing to visit this part of Mexico.

We had originally planned to stop at Teacapan and San Blas on our way to Lo de Marcos, however, reports of a healthy mosquito population and washed out roads have caused us to reconsider.    Instead, we may leave here early in the morning and try to make the 430 kilometre trip to Lo de Marcos, direct.   As long as traffic on the toll roads isn’t delayed we should be able to make the trek and arrive by mid-afternoon.    Stay tuned.

Statistics

Kilometres-530   Diesel- Total $80.00    Camping Fee-$25.00 X 4 = $100.00

We departed Guaymas at 7.00AM, retraced our route back to toll road #15, about a 10 minute drive.   Once on the highway we came immediately to a toll booth and had to pay 93 pesos.   The first 10 kilometres after the toll booth was new pavement, and smooth.   However, we wonder what they did with the toll money after that.   Highway #15 was rough, many potholes had been patched but still had rough spots.   Some dips in the road caused the springs on the truck to bottom-out.   We encountered many speed bumps (topes) along the way.   As we passed through a some towns the speed bumps provided good opportunities for the local Mexicans to sell their wares to the slowing traffic.    We saw beautiful wicker furniture for sale at one spot, but for the most part people were trying to sell either newspapers, food or beverages.

We passed one military checkpoint enroute.   The soldiers were dressed in desert style camouflage outfits, had shelters built with sandbags, were armed with automatic weapons, but smile graciously and waved us through.    

We paid two more tolls on the way totalling about $150 pesos.    We also passed through a federal police roadblock without incident.    The traffic was light, the road straight but rough so we try to keep our speed down for fear of something shifting or breaking in the trailer.

We reached the town of Huatabampo (pronounced- Wha-ta-bam-po) around 11.30AM, followed signs through the city and stopped at Sorianna’s supermarket to pick up a few things.   Immediately after the supermarket we turned right following signs for Huatabampito.   We knew from information on the internet that Huatabampito was roughly 40 kilometres from highway #15.   What we didn’t know was that the road had unmarked topes, and had places that had been washed out by hurricane Norbert two weeks earlier.  We continued on undaunted.   There were places that the sand had been blown across the road, but eventually we noticed a large sign on our right indicating El Mirador Hotel and RV Campground.   We turned into the sandy laneway and drove up to a yellow building that had the name El Mirador painted on it.    As I stopped out front a gentleman came out of the building to greet us.    We introduced ourselves and he said we could have any site we liked.    Here as in Guaymas we were the only RV campers in the park.   I guess that’s what it is to be ahead of the season.

We chose a site with an ocean view not far from the office.    The sites are packed sand and our trailer bogged down a little in the top layers of sand.    But we were able to manouvre into position.   An electrical problem with one of the outlets was quickly resolved by the owner Enrique and we settled in an got things set up.

Our site with ocean view.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The beach at Huatabampito is flat, wide, and probably 20 kilometres long.   In certain areas there are sand dunes just back of the beach.   It,  like Bahai de Kino is a shell collectors paradise.   While there were some of the same sorts of shells, I did find many different kinds that I had not seen before.   The water off the beach is shallow for a good distance out, which makes for ideal swimming conditions.  

We enjoyed watching the seagulls and pelicans diving from high above the water, into schools of flying fish that could be seen breaking the surface.  

Later, we decided to combine an offer of a free Margarita by the owner, with supper at their restaurant.   The ambiance was truly Mexican.   Being Sunday there were many Mexican families enjoying the beach.   When we entered the outdoor terrace of the restaurant it was almost full of Mexican families, happily enjoying each other, the view, and a good meal.   Nicole opted for a fried chicken dish and I ordered enchilladas.   We started off with a dish of nachos and a delightful sause, and our waiter Daniel promptly produced two large Margaritas.   We both enjoyed our supper and returned to the trailer shortly thereafter, so that Sunny was not left alone too long.

We had supper under la palapa.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

We had been warned by the owner’s wife Martha, that a dusk we should make sure we closed up the trailer because that is when the mosquitos came out.   We later learned that rain produced by hurricane Norbert, and mangroves located on the opposite side of the roadway made for ideal habitat for the pesky criters.  Sure enough as soon as the sun set out they came.   We found them to be unrelenting and determined in finding their next meal.    The next morning while walking on the beach, had to return to the trailer for long pants, and a jacket as the mosquitos and what I believe were sand fleas were not deterred by my insect repellant.  We found that even during the day if you walked in shady areas, the little devils were after you.   Owner, Enrique told us that by the 1st of November the mosquitos season was finished.    

The next morning I was on the beach by 6.00AM, and surprised by the number of fisherman is small pangas not far off shore.   The sun was just coming up, the humidity was very high, and everything was covered in a heavy dew.   Apparently, shrimp, crab and various fish species are readily available not far off shore.  

Sunrise on the beach.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

On the second day of our visit I did some snorkeling several hundred feet from shore.    However, the sandy bottom and the constant turbulence caused by the waves breaking on shore made for murky water and  difficulty seeing bottom.   There is no apparent reef close to shore at the Huatabampito beach.  Seagulls, Cormorants, Pelicans and Turkey Vultures vie for ownership of the waterfront.

Pelicans having a siesta.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The afternoon of our second day we had some visitors to the RV park.   This made for a truly Mexican experience.

All visitors are welcome at El Mirador.

Besides walking the beach for several kilometres in each direction, I also took a stroll along the roadway.  It was interesting to observe the different styles of haciendas built on the sand.   White seemed to be the prominent colour of the houses.   The majority were luxurious places, large, and well landscaped.   Others were smaller in a different stages of construction.

This house was beautifully landscaped.

 

New hacienda under construction.

The owner of the park Enrique, his wife Martha, their children and staff were friendly, and helpful which made for a very pleasant stay.    I learned from Enrique that his father, nearly fourty years ago bought a small piece of beachfront property and built a thriving bar/restaurant.   Over the years, neighbouring properties were purchased allowing for the creation of the RV park and a small motel.   The old original building is currently being renovated and plans are to make it the restaurant.   The current restaurant will be converted to a clubhouse for the RV park.    Enrique also told me he plans to extend the sea-wall across the front of the property.

Renovations for a new restaurant.

One only dreams of having a beach all to themselves, but one morning I walked the beach for several hours collecting shells, and other than a few seagulls, and sandpipers never saw another person.   Estan muy tranquilo.

View of beach looking north.

View looking south,our trailer other side of yellow building.

While at El Mirador RV park on two occasions I got to experience true Mexican culture.  Our first night there Enrique invited me to join himself, his brother, and three other friends for a mini fiesta.  Erique’s brother is a multi-talented singer/musician.   He played the accordian and one of the other chaps had a guitar.  All of them were exceptional singers.   I was introduced to what they referred to as “traditional Mexican musica”.

We sat around a table in the restaurant and as one of them would think of a song, la guitarra was passed to them and they would sing a song.   Brother would accompany on the accordian.   It was truly a night to remember.  

On the second occasion I was sitting outside the trailer playing the guitar one afternoon.   I had just put the guitar away and was in the trailer when two amigos that I didn’t know drove up beside the trailer in a green Ford Explorer with California licence plates.   The driver introduced himself as Ricardo, and his spanish speaking friend as Gaston.    He told me they both lived further down the beach and when driving by had seen me playing the guitar.   Gaston immediately produced a harmonica and started playing a blues type song.   When he finished he said, ” Me gusta la musica.”    Ricardo asked if I wanted to get together with them later on and have a few beers and play some music.   Enrique graciously let us use part of the restaurant, away for the pesky mosquitos and we enjoyed a couple of hours of old rock and roll and blues songs.    I don’t pretend to be a good guitar player, but enjoy playing rock and roll type songs for my own pleasure.    The two Mexican friends seem to enjoy the jam session, I think because the music was different from what they would normally hear in Mexico.    All in all it was alot of fun.

We thoroughly enjoyed our stay at El Mirador, the only negative being the non-stop mosquitos.  We would definately return, but probably later in November or during the winter months when it is reported there are no mosquitos.

Statistics

Kilometres-190   Diesel $40.00   Camping Fee $18. US X 4 = $72.US + tax

 

For those following our adventures, I would like to apologize if the photos and accompanying text appear disoriented.   I have been experiencing problems in trying to publish draft documents to final copy.   In draft form, all photos have been aligned left, with introductory text above the photo.   But, for unknown reasons when published the text wants to wrap to the right of the photo.   I have been notified by wordpress.com that they are searching for a new software solution, so hopefully this will be corrected in the near future.

Dave

While we hated to leave Bahai de Kino, we packed looking forward to what Guaymas might hold in store.  On the road by 7.00AM, we retraced our route back to Hermosilla.   Traffic was light at that time of the morning, so the return trip seemed much quicker.   At the first stop light we came to on the southern outskirts of Hermosilla, we made a right turn, following traffic signs for Guaymas (pronounced why-mus).   This route took us through part of the city during rush-hour.   With two ,narrow lanes in either direction there wasn’t any room for error, but we managed to survive and were back on toll road #15 within half an hour or so.

Highway 15 was in good repair, relatively flat, winding in and around the mountains.   Nicole has become an expert at snapping scenery shots while we are on the move.

Scenery along toll road #15.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The trip was only 250 kilometres, and with only one stop to pay a toll, we made it to Guaymas by 10.00AM.  With helpful directions from a Mexican gentleman stopped in traffic beside us, we made it to  Hotel Playa de Cortes and RV Park shortly thereafter.

Entrance to Hotel Playa de Cortes

Upon arrival a friendly security guard directed us to the RV area, anso assisted us with setting up once we had chosen a site.    We were the only campers in the park so we had our choice of sites.  We opted for site 75 that was located in the centre, closest to the hotel entrance.

We had the park to ourselves. Muy tranquilo.

At check-in, the receptionist stated that we had the use of all facilities the same as if we were guests at the hotel.   We order lunch, a club sandwich with fries for Nicole, and I had a Mexican platter.   You talk about good service, they even delivered it to the trailer, so that we didn’t have to leave Sunny alone.  Ha sido una comida excellente.

Later, we wandered through the hotel and around the grounds.   This hotel has been in existance since the 1960’s and is still a classy place, although starting to show its age.   It has over 200 rooms, 5 bungalows, and appears to be a favourite with the local people, as we witnessed two Mexican marriages in our two days there.

Hotel courtyard leading to oceanfront.

Nicole and Sunny enjoying walk oceanside at hotel.

The hotel even had a pier so you could get right down at ocean level to sit and watch the sunset.

Sunset on the pier.

The next day at noon we all jumped in the truck and made the short drive over to San Carlos on the opposite side of the bay.   Having seen some photos of San Carlos on the internet, I wanted to see for myself what it was like.   We were not disappointed.    It is a busy, bustling, developing place with million dollar homes located in every conceivable location on, in and around the mountains.   The scenery was absolutely stunning, like something you would see in a movie.  

View of just part of San Carlosfrom mountain looking north.

On the other side of the same mountain were views of public beach with a couple of boats moored off-shore.

Boats at anchor in bay near public beach.

To give you a better idea of the grandeur and size of the landscape, I zoned in with the camera in the following photo.   If you look closely on the right, middle of the photo is a yellow kayak approaching the exposed rocks.

Yellow kayak approaching rocky point.

It is always difficult to capture in a photo what you see first hand.   For example, in the two proceeding photos, the water near the shore was a beautiful turquoise colour, but for some reason it doesn’t show.   We descended to the beach and I took a photo of the same boats lying at anchor, and can see in the upper, left the road from which I took the previous photo.

Boats at anchor from ground level.

When we stopped at the mountain-top lookout, there was a vendor selling bibidas, so we order a coco.  Not knowing what to expect, the chap searched behind him in an ice box and retrieved a coconut.   With machete in hand, he quickly cut open the top of the coconut, pulled out a new plastic bag, and poured the water from the inside of the coconut into the plastic bag.   In a flash he inserted a plastic drinking straw into the top opening of the plastic bag and we had a refreshing drink.   He then sliced the meat of the coconut into bite size pieces and handed us the coconut.   We shared the pieces of coconut with his five year old daughter,Marilyn, who could speak a little bit of English.    The chap then retrieved another coconut he had opened previously and poured water into it for Sunny to drink.   All nourished and re-hydrated we headed back to the truck and down the mountain.

Nicole standing by truck on beach road.

Here is a better photo of the public beach.

Better view of the public beach.

We truly enjoyed our two days in Guaymas, and were glad that we had made the trip to San Carlos.  As always we found the Mexican people friendly, helpful, and hard-working.   The daytime temperatures hoovered near 90 degrees F, cooling down at night to about 70 degrees F with no breeze.   We would definately return to Guaymas/ San Carlos.

Statistics

Kilometres-250  Diesel – Total $50.00  Camping Fee:  $22 X 2= $44.00

I knew at the outset that this would be a long drive, with topes, narrow roads, military ,and police checkpoints we had about 360 kilometres to cover before arriving at Bahai de Kino.   Highway 15 is a four lane toll road (2 lanes south,2 lanes north).   The lanes are narrow and shoulders are non-existant.  We were often reminded by signs reading, “Extreme Caution Orilla Peligroso”, meaning dangerous edge of pavement.  The first 50 km near the border were rough, but the condition of the asphalt improved the further along we went.

The tall Saguro cacti saluted us as we passed.   Although the highway was relatively flat, it snaked its way amongst the mountains on either side of the thoroughfare.    We stopped three times to pay tolls totalling roughly 200 pesos, passed one military checkpoint, and two federal police roadblocks, without being stopped.   I guess by my appearance they figured just another loco gringo viejo. 

Nicole snap this photo as we were driving

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

We reached the outskirts of the large city of Hermosilla by 11.30AM, and began searching for something to eat.   To give you an idea of its size in 2005 official population figures for Hermosilla were closed to 642,000.   By comparison, that’s almost the same size as Metropolitan Ottawa.   We didn’t want to go into the centre of the city with the trailer so we settled for cold hamburgs and not so great burritos at a small corner store.   

Following the advice of others who have made the trip, we opted to take a northern bypass around the city.  The roadsigns in some of Mexico are missing, or placed in unusual locations.    Even the best road signs announce changes in direction at the last minute.  As we proceeded through the mountains we passed a road on the left, but did not notice any sign, so we continued on.   A young Mexican waved his arms in the air and we were not sure what he wanted so we continued on.   A short time later we were passed by a garbage truck that pulled up ahead and stopped in front of us.   From the passengers side of the garbage truck out jumped the same chap who had been waving his arms.    He asked if we were going to Bahai de Kino because if we were we missed the turn.   He guided me as I backed the trailer into the ditch in order to turn around.  In doing so the electrical cord from the truck to trailer came undone, which he promptly pointed out.   Apparently he knew there were no RV campgrounds on the road we had taken and went out of his way to steer us right.   After thanking him profusely we headed off in the right direction.   Sure enough after making the turn that he had recommended there was a sign indicating Bahai de Kino.

This route around Hermosilla was rough and under construction.   A dusty haze lingered in the air as people went about their daily activities.   Once outside the city the road was in good condition, flat, almost straight, and 100 kilometres long.   Both Nicole and I were getting a little testy which made for a quiet, but long journey.  

We got to the small, dusty fishing village of Bahai de Kino around 3.00PM.    Here again we found signs to be lacking.    We had to guess where the RV park might be located.   After venturing down a road into Nuevo Kino, and not finding our park we retraced our steps, into the older part of town.   A young chap at the local fish market provided directions and after turning the trailer in an impossible location and mounting up on the curb, we got to the Islandia RV campground.

Only sign for Islandia RV park.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I spoke with Martha the manager and she arranged for us to have the only available oceanfront site.   This park has been in existence for over fourty years and is a favourite with American and Canadian full-time RVer’s, for several reasons.   First, it is located in the state of Sonora and because of the state’s proximity to the USA you do not need to buy vehicle permits.   Sonora is referred to as a “hassle-free zone.”  Second, it is only a days drive from the border, therefore easy in, easy out.   Third, the cost of site rental at $318. US per month or $1900. US for the year makes it attractive, economically.   During winter months daytime highs average 65 degrees F and if they have a cold snap you have to wear coats and long pants.    This would not be warm enough for me.

We settled into our site after a chap from Arizona gave up his parking spot for us, and quickly changed out of the cold weather garb we had worn at Nogales.   For Nicole, this was he first look at the Pacific Ocean from Mexico, although she had seen the Atlantic Ocean during our trips to the Dominican Republic.  The temperature climbed to the high 80’s, so the air conditioning in the trailer got a workout.  We were nestled between two ardent fishermen, one originally from Sierra Vista, Arizona, and the other from northern New Mexico.   Other campers came from Texas, Alberta and British Columbia.   We shared a happy hour with some of them and enjoyed getting to know them.

Our oceanfront site at Islandia RV Park.

La playa at Bahai de Kino is a beachcomber’s paradise.   The Pacific Ocean here offers one of the most diverse fishing grounds in Mexico.   The fine sand on the beach offers protection for wayward seashells washed in by tidal waves.    I nearly filled a two gallon pail with shells I found while walking the beach.  Conversely, while shell hunting is fun, barefoot walking is nearly impossible because of the shells that have been broken over the years.   Sunny enjoyed frolicking, off-leash, along the beach, but had to cleverly zig-zag his way around the broken shells.

Seagulls and shells on the beach.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The second morning while walking on the beach, a young Mexican fellow who had been snorkeling, surfaced and swam to shore dragging a sack behind him.   He waved me over to see what he had found.  The sack was nearly full of clams of different sorts, crab, and fresh sand dollars.    I bought four sand dollars from him for 20 pesos and gave him a Coor’s Light which he downed like a camel after fourty days in the desert.  Any sand dollars I had seen previously were white in colour, however because these were live they were a chocolate brown colour.   

Snorkeler showing me his catch. Sand dollars on on his flipper.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Nicole

 

The second morning at Kino, Nicole received a knock on the door and it was the lady next door.   She told Nicole that “El Capitaine” was down by the beach and had lots of fresh fish that he would fillet for anyone who wanted some.   Apparently he had been given the fish by his el hefe (boss) and he wanted to share the wealth.   We went down to the beach, to a fish cleaning table where Juan was busily filleting fish.   He gave us a zip-lock bag and said in broken English take as much as you want.   I almost filled the bag and offered to pay him but he said he would only take a tip, so I gave him 20 pesos and he was content.   We got enough fish for three meals.  Not a bad deal by anyones standards.   

Juan filleting fish we got from him.

And while on the subject of seafood, we also bought a kilo of fresh jumbo blue shirmp for $100 pesos from Reyes at the fish market.  He even delivered them to our trailer.    Our freezer is bulging at the seams.  

About one mile off shore, in front of the resort, lies an island they call Alcatraz.   I was able to capture it in the following sunset photo.

Alcatraz at sunset.

Hopefully the following photos will give you an idea of what Bahai de Kino was like.

Looking north from Islandia RV Park.

Looking south from Islandia RV Park.

Fishermen loading their boat to head out for the morning catch.

And finally.

Alcatraz Island and peaceful sunrise.

Statistics

Kilometres-360, Diesel Total $50.  Camping Fee-$18.00 X 2= $36.00

Reasoning that if we got to the border crossing early we would avoid lineups, and make the bureaucratic entry process less painful, we crossed the border on the Mariposa Road by 7.00AM.    Incidently this crossing is only open from 6.00AM to 10.00PM, and the Mariposa entry point is used mainly by trucks.  We chose to take this route rather than try to manouvre the truck and trailer through the congested Nogales Centro crossing.

You have to be careful after crossing the border because there are many speed-bumps called “topes” in Spanish.   The official Mexican Customs checkpoint is located some 21 kilometres south of the crossing, however we were stopped at a roadblock about 5 kilometres into the trip.   A customs officer in uniform approached the passenger’s side of the truck, Nicole rolled down the window and he demanded in Spanish to open the trailer.   We noted several dogs loose in the area, which is not uncommon in Mexico.

I quickly responded to his request by exiting the truck and unlocking the trailer.   He entered the trailer with me in pursuit, and immediately went to the bed and lifted the mattress.   Now under the mattress is a sheet of plywood that is screw nailed to a wooden framework.    He asked me to remove the plywood, but when I showed him it was afixed with screws he relented and got down on his hands and knees trying to illuminate the area underneath with his flashlight.   It was the only thing he checked in the trailer, got up and said you have a beautiful trailer in Spanish, and went out the door.    I locked everything up, and returned to the truck.   Nicole told me that while we were in the trailer the harmless looking dogs circled around under the trailer, possibly searching out contraband.    The were extremely well trained if this was the case, as they looked like stray animals.

After being waved on by the Customs officer we proceeded down the road to the checkpoint.   Upon arrival I noted that we were not the first to arrive.   There were several trucks towing boats with American licence plates, parked in the lot.

Equipped with passports, vehicle documents and photocopies thereof I walked to an office that issued tourist permits.   Two Custom officers sat behind a counter, and were more interested in talking to one another about last nights feista, than serving me.    One threw a form on the counter and I told him in needed two.    Referring to our passports I filled out the forms and handed them back to him.   He was so busy talking to his chum that he didn’t take time to inspect what I had written.   He said in English “six months” to which I replied yes and he marked each form for 180 dias.   He stamped the form then separated the multi-pages giving me the top copy.   He then said in broken English, “now you go to get your vehicle permit”, pointing in a southerly direction.   

When I arrived at the “Banjercito”, I was third in line, with only two wickets open.   I carefully watched what other tourists were doing and noted that a couple in front of me had to ge a photocopy of their tourist permit.   So not wanting to appear stupid, I did the same thing.   I might add at this point that from information I had garnered from the internet I had already scanned and printed several copies of our passports and vehicle documents which helped with the process later on.

At this  vehicle permit office the tourists are outside and the customs people are in an office, behind glass enclosures.   The temperature was about 50 degrees F and even though I wore a T-shirt, long sleeved shirt and a jacket it was cold standing in line. 

Finally it was my turn and I approached the wicket.   There was a small, pass-through in the window, located about waist-high, and all conversation and passing of documents took place through this opening.   The passing trucks on the nearby road made it difficult to hear, so one had to bend over with your ear to the opening to hear what was being said.    The “vehicle permit process took about 45 minutes and I looked like the “hunch back of Notre Dame”, by the time we were through.

I had to buy a vehicle permit for the truck that was valid for 180 days, and another permit for the trailer that expires in 10 years.   Go figure.    Apparently the reason for the permits is so that tourists do not sell there vehicles while in Mexico.   The kicker is that you must surrender a hologram sticker, affixed to the windshield, when you exit Mexico, 180 days later.   Their system is computerized, so if you don’t or forget to surrender the stickers you would no doubt have trouble entering Mexico again.

Nicole and Sunny waited patiently in the truck while I was obtaining the official documents.  She told me that while I was away she was constantly being pestered by teenagers, who would crawl under the fence in the Customs parking lot, trying to sell their wares.   

Once I had placed the sticker in the middle of the windshield we headed off on our mexican adventure, heading south on toll road highway 15 towards Bahai de Kino.

Statistics

Nothing to report.

In preparation for our entry into Mexico, we left Cochise Terrace and travelled the 70 odd miles via highways 90 and 82, passing by Patagonia State Park that looked interesting.   Maybe on the way back we will check it out.

The trip was through mountainous terrain and twisting roads, but we made good time and arrived in Nogales by 9.00AM.   We decided to spend the night at Mi Casa RV park, but had trouble finding it.   The  Tourist Information office was closed but with the help of a friendly shopkeeper  we were sent a couple of miles north of the city centre and located the park behind a “Circle K” store.

This was an older park with many permanent residents, mainly of Spanish heritage.   It was obvious by the state of some of the trailers that many of the folks were less fortunate.    As we circled the roadway searching for a suitable site we were being quietly observed from every corner.   Many of the trailers had big dogs chained outside and they greeted us with incessant barking.    Poor Sunny shook like an Egyptian belly dancer just at the thought of getting out of the truck.

Feeling a little uncomfortable and out of place, we chose a site under a light and not far from the office, even though it was next to the trailer dump station.   The trailer next to us was about 18 feet in length and housed a mother, her son and 49 cats.   The minute Sunny got out of the truck the chase was on.  I couldn’t leave the cargo doors on the trailer open for fear a cat would make himself at home.   The son next door kept giving us the evil stare, kept pacing back and forth reading the bible.   Now don’t get me wrong, I’m not anti-religious, but this guy was not what you would call normal.  

We got things setup and it was with trepidation that I left Nicole and Sunny to go downtown in search of Mexican pesos.   She remained in the trailer with the door locked while I was gone.   My first stop was an America First bank a short distance away.    The manager told me they did not have pesos, and I would have to go to the border as there were many currency exchange businesses that would have pesos.   After receiving the same story at a second bank,  I finally got the message, and tuned the truck southward.

Now to say the downtown area of Nogales, near the border, is a seedy place is an under-statement.   There are hundreds of people just hanging around observing anything that moves.    For an outsider you feel like a fish in a fishbowl.    You have no idea who maybe watching your every move, but you can rest assured someone is.  There were police on foot at almost every corner, all wearing bulletproof vest with their sidearms and mace at the ready.    I worked up the nerve to try out my Spanish by approaching a young constable and striking up a conversation with him.    My reason for this was two-fold.   First, I wanted to let him know that I was a stranger in town, entering his beat to exchange money, with the hope that he would keep an eye on me.   And, secondly, I thought if the criminals hidden in the crowd saw me talking to a policeman they may think twice about any illegal activity.

I sheepishly entered one of the currency exchange stores, and noted there were several men just hanging around inside the door.    I mustered up the courage to confidently walk up to a large glass window, where a skinny man in his 50’s sat eating a tortilla.   I quickly whipped out my $1,500 US, and slid it through an opening at the bottom of the window, before one of the men behind me could take it.   The man behind the window place what I had given him in a counting machine and rapidly determined that he would give me 11 pesos for each American dollar or a total of $16,500 pesos.   Eager to be on my way I graciously accepted his offer, and quickly sequestered the money in my fanny pack.   As I exited the store, I nervously checked around me, and walked as quickly away from the place as possible.   Using several diversionary tactics I made sure I wasn’t being followed and almost ran back to where I had parked the truck.   I heaved a sigh of relief as I turned northward heading back to the trailer park.

Upon arrival Nicole and Sunny were still in the trailer.    Outside the cats were under, on, and around the trailer.    I had stopped and bought some chicken for lunch to take back to the trailer.  Later when Nicole put out the garbage the cats put on an airial display trying to be the first to jump up on the 45 gallon drum of garbage and retrieve the chicken bones.

To make a long story short, we survived the night, by keeping the outside lights on, ensuring everything was locked, and taking a handful of sleeping pills.    In all fairness to the folks living at Mi Casa, none of our stuff was touched.   Their loud music through the night was much appreciated, although I now have forgotten the words of the Spanish songs they played.  

With about two hours sleep, we quickly packed up, and headed for the border.

Statistics

Kilometres-110, Diesel $3.89gal Total $40.00  Camping Fee $18.00