Part Two

A beautiful sunrise, probably helped by all the pollution that was blowing across the border from Mexacali. Well rested we drove to the border and pulled off to get all the paperwork done. For me it was an easy crossing as I knew what to expect but Diane had her first introduction to the Mexican government system. There are no signs to tell you to stop, if you wished, you could probably drive right through the "no declarer" lane and not know you were in trouble until you reached the first military checkpoint about 20 km down the road, then you would pay big time! However, we stopped and went into one of the "offices" to begin the process. Each office is one room onto the street with a dusty desk and an old filing cabinet with old drywall hanging from the ceiling. You show your papers and then get sent to another office where you get photocopies done, then to a place for an inspector to check your vehicle serial number, back to original place, pay money, smile graciously, get a sticker placed on your windshield, over to another office where a calm, confident military man stamps your visa card very officially, while having his shoes shined by another man. The chain of command I guess!

Back to the van and through the border..... all this only took about 1-2 hours. The city began right there, 20 metres from the border. It has a population of about one million but was not as hectic as I remember it. Diane gawked and squealed at all the things to see as we steadily made our way towards the open road. First impressions were the usual.... old beaters, dirt, dust, apparent chaos, decrepit buildings, junkyards (which she came to realize were active businesses), but most of all garbage everywhere. Plastic is the bane of the developing world. I'm sure that before the modern times of plastic, glass, aluminium and steel the world was quite clean. When travelling years ago in Africa there was no plastic, everything was wrapped in leaves or grass when you purchased it, sometimes old newspapers but biodegradable nonetheless. The scope of this garbage disaster cannot be overstated, it is the governing theme that is in your face almost every moment when travelling. Enough of that now though, it is just something we will have to live with.

Once on the road we were able to relax and enjoy the scenery. The common theme in the Baja is desert, sharp jagged mountains, flat plains and the ocean. It has to be one of the most photogenic areas of the world, around every corner a vista beckons to be captured on film. We carried on to San Felipe, a small (10,000) town catering to American sports fisherman and party animals. Prices were not as cheap as expected, our little RV parking spot on the beach was $10 US. It was a beautiful spot marred only by the soon to be common sounds of barking dogs, traffic and Spanish disco music. Everything in the Baja can be bought with US dollars but this sure doesn't help us. It was nice to walk the beaches and the town as it prepared for its annual shrimp festival that was coming this weekend. The drive down to where we are now (La Paz) took about six days. Diane came to understand what I had been talking about when I said that going 450 km in a day was a good pace. Our best day so far was about 350km!

Our days went something like this..... wake up at 5:30 (morning ablutions until 7:30 or 8:00) this was our special time of relaxing, on the road then, stopping occasionally for snacks and gas, usually taking at least one long walk in the middle of the day either on a beach, through a town or along one of the desert side roads. By 4:00 seriously looking for a place to stay, stopping no later that 5:00 (it was pitch black by 5:30 so we had to find a place by then), set up camp, have dinner, study Spanish, read about and plan the next days itinerary,(we had several guide books and maps and this exercise usually took over an hour), go for a walk if possible and then to bed , usually by 9:00. We kept paper and pen handy throughout the day to jot down things that we saw during the day so that they could be included in this journal but I can see already that only the condensed version will get onto these pages.

Flashes of Mexico..... 25' panga fishing boats skidded up the beach above the tide line by rusty 4x4 pickups with no mufflers; military checkpoints with manually operated spike belts; dead donkeys on the side of the road; lush desert vegetation; beach vendors wandering the beaches selling jewelry, toy soldiers, serapes and just about anything else; potholes, potholes, potholes; sunrises and sunsets, workers hoeing in the fields in the early morning mist; narrow roads with no shoulders, olive groves, vineyards, cactus farms (really), dusty windswept plateaus, thousands of unfinished block buildings abandoned everywhere (a mystery that we are committed to resolve); lineups for gas, Baja 1000 racers and support crews; rocky beaches; sandy beaches; beaches littered with tons of shells each of which would fetch a good dollar in Canada (we have no room though, so we took a picture); beaches covered with coral leaves; mountains of boulders, kerosene lamp lit supper in a restaurant with a dirt floor (rice and refried beans); flies; expert truck drivers that have to drive on narrow roads (the hundreds of crosses alongside the road are monuments to those that were not); dead dogs on the side of the road; getting the van sprayed with insecticides at a agricultural check point (with an appropriate fee that surely mostly went into the guards pocket); salt flats (one of the largest in the world where 24,000 tonnes is dried daily); small desert oasis town of San Ignacio, church and mission built of lava; campground by the oasis where we met the "Tortuga Verde" (the Green Turtle) bus loaded with young people on an adventure, church bells right beside us ringing at 4:30 in the morning; valleys of volcanoes, fresh breads in the morning; fish tacos for breakfast; wind swept beaches with lagoons and sand spit with our first warm water to swim in; thatched huts on the beach (palapas), schools of jumping fish trying to escape the dive bombing pelicans, hawkers, touristy oasis town of Loreto with beautiful walkway beside the ocean; fresh donuts (just like Karen makes at CNC ); more sunrises and sunsets in cacti forests; dead dogs on the side of the road; and finally we came to the city of La Paz where we were to catch the ferry to the mainland.

There were several actual RV Parks in the city but they wanted about $25 a night to park so we took a drive to some beaches I had been to on my last trip and found a very special one which was free, with a few other campers for security. This became our home base for a few days, walking and swimming the mile long stretch in the morning and afternoons, and driving into town to explore and do odd jobs. Telephoning, mailing a letter, getting ferry tickets, doing laundry, getting potable water and propane, going to AA meetings, changing money, getting the van washed, finding Internet access, are all major tasks when in a different setting where you don't speak the language. We had three days to wait until our ferry left but the days passed quickly. I didn't find time to get on the computer to write up these notes. (We are sitting right now far away from the desert of La Paz, in the sweltering humidity of the jungle by the famous ruins of Palenque, on the Yucatan Peninsula and we miss the dry heat and the ocean.)

We were ready for the ferry ride after three days on the beach, the sand and salt spray was into everything. We barely got on the ferry, we were the last car, because of some mixup with our tickets. It was quite confusing but I had faith that it would all work out and it did. The trip was 18 hours and we had splurged and got a cabin so we wouldn't have to sleep on the deck like I had last time. It was the right thing to do as it gave us some privacy and we managed to get a good sleep in spite of the oppressive heat (the windows were sealed shut in the cabins). The entertainment for the evening was sitting in the lounge watching the people perform over numerous beers and a lively jukebox. It was a step into the Mexican culture. The morning found us approaching Mazatlan. Dolphins, fishing boats, diving sea birds catching fish that were scared up by the wake of the boat, and a depressing amount of pollution that covered the whole coast was what greeted us. Last on, first off into the awakening city we quickly turned inland towards the mountains to get away from the coastal traffic and also to strike out into new country that I had not seen yet.

What awaited us was a tortuous climb up the "Devil's Spine", a twisty, windy, narrow, road that took us up into the highland plateau and the famous city of Durango. The day was filled with sights of lush vegetation and flowers, butterflies by the thousands, Indian pottery, ornate carved furniture (the high country had pine forests), Mexican logging trucks and sawmills, crossing the Tropic of Cancer several times, awesome vistas, steep hillsides with corn fields hacked out of the jungle, houses perched almost in mid-air, and a deep respect for the builders of the road.

Durango greeted us at dusk, a welcome sight in a large dry valley, remarkedly free of pollution. A small sideroad by a farming community became home for the night with the glow of Durango comforting us. The high plateau was cool and we had to break out the sleeping bags and use the auxiliary heater in the morning. Our relaxed mood vanished as the van began to act up again, repeating the well known symptoms of power loss but eventually it cleared up. The countryside was full of contrasts, large semi-trailers sharing the road with donkeys and carts, modern pulp mills beside houses drying chilies in their front yards (sharing this space with pigs, chickens, dogs, and dust caked children), a large grain harvester working on one side of the road while rows of peasants hand-hoed vegetable fields on the other side.

Home that night was again by a small ejido (a cooperative farming community) where we felt quite safe. A working community that was awake and active before dawn, we had our morning coffee (at 5:00 AM) while watching a parade of donkeys, bicycles, pedestrians, and truckloads of people go by. A proud commissaire (chief) of the ejido paid us a friendly visit and we went for a morning walk through the fields nourished by water fed by an elaborate concrete canal system that originated at a distant river. Here, fences were made by planting cacti in rows.

On the road again, we began to feel the presence of Mexico City. It is said that in Mexico, all roads lead to Mexico City. If you look at a highway map it is quite true. Our plan was to detour around on secondary roads to avoid the maelstrom. But even three hundred miles away the truck traffic increased oppressively, drivers became aggressive and the towns grew from 25,000 to 250,000 people bustling with energy. Choking exhaust fumes, watching the passing game of chicken unfold before our eyes again and again, wrong turns, poor signage left us drained by the end of the day but almost around Mexico City. A full day still found us still only covering 400 km. The countryside was mostly ranching highlighted by glimpses of snow capped volcanos in the distance.

Our plan was to get on to the toll freeways leading out of Mexico City and speed towards the coast. We wanted to get to the Cancun area in time for a little rest and relaxation, resupply, vehicle maintenance and such, before our insurance ran out (we only got 30 days and it would be difficult to get an extension) and we had to move on to Belize.

The toll roads (which we had only previously experienced on short bypass routes around a few cities) were wonderful if not a little hard on the pocketbook (total estimated cost to go about 1500 km was $75). Few people could afford the toll so traffic was very light and the roads excellent. We actually found ourselves speeding along at 95 km/hr! It appeared as though we were travelling at great speed, almost flying (the illusion enhanced by having all the windows open and the wind roaring through the van). All was well for a few hours until we began to run into fierce headwinds and our speed dropped to 55 km/hr with full throttle and the van began to act up. Even the large transport trucks were slowed to a crawl. This wind was a result of the highland plateau meeting the warm air from the Gulf of Mexico.

We began an awesome decent in the next 50 km. Large signs indicated warnings of heavy fog, strong winds, and heavy rain. The road was a marvel of engineering, a four lane freeway shooting down precipitous cliffs. The vegetation and the weather changed abruptly. In a few short kilometres we had descended from 6000' to 100' and had moved into a different world.

As we approached Veracruz we managed to miss our junction (the exit was not marked properly and exits are few and far between, in this case we would have had to backtrack 80 km) so we found ourselves at the outskirts of the city at dusk, tired and hungry. My experience was that the east coast, especially in the Gulf area, was not a hospitable place so we decided not to enter the city but turn onto the libre road (free) and find a side road in the rural area to set up for the night. It was far more difficult to find a place as it was heavily populated and everything was gated or overgrown by the heavy vegetation.

We finally settled on a spot beside the road at what we thought was a dead end about five kilometres off the main road. It was pitch dark and we went for a walk to stretch our legs when we saw lights coming at us from the supposedly end of the road and we realized that the road continued. Soon more people and vehicles came by, some stopping to chat with us. We asked several if it was alright to park there for the night and they unanimously indicated no....... with rapid verbal exchanges and gestures they indicated rats from the sugar cane fields would come and eat up our tires and lines under the van.

We sat for awhile and debated what to do, we were so tired we didn't want to move! As we procrastinated a small group of people gathered outside the van and one woman insistently knocked on the window wanting to talk with us. It became clear that she wanted us to come with them and park on their family ranch for the night. They walked off into the night, us puttering along behind, until they opened a gate off the road and we bumped along over fields until we came to a small brick house where we were greeted by kids and animals. The man wished to show off his farm, so we obliged and stumbled around in the dark with our tiny flashlight, being eaten alive by bugs, and viewing his pig sty, goat, chicken and rabbit pens while trying to understand what they said. They were very nice people and we were thankful they had come to rescue us as it became apparent the main danger on the road were rats of a larger variety, the two-legged kind.

Finally to bed, with a sigh, inches away from the open air house, lying naked in the heat and humidity... But we were not to get any sleep that night, a goat began bleating every few second just outside our door. It soon became apparent that goats are physiologically similar to dogs (they can bark repeatedly twenty-four hours a day). The goat serenade was joined by barking dogs, and roosters competing with each other. We both blearily watched the dawn approach, wanting to get away from the noise but we had to go through our morning ablutions scrutinized by the children and thank the owner for rescuing us. We found out that he was trying to wean one of his goats and that another had two kids during the night...... that explained all the bleating. The experience brought us closer to how the rural people lived, no power, running water or transportation but a closeness to the earth. How lucky we are!

On the road again, greeted by pineapple fields, banana plantations, lush vegetation, sand dunes drifting across the road, trucks, potholes, the towns no longer dusty but looking unkempt as it is hard to maintain anything in the tropics. Everything looked poorer here if that was possible, and the mood had changed as is so much the case when you have oppressive heat and humidity. The people were sullen and looked burdened and angry.

Today was a national holiday (Independence Day) so we saw a lot of children dressed up in their school uniforms on the way to the some event. Each little village had some sort of celebration with a band playing and we stopped off at one town to mingle with the onlookers of a parade. It was quite neat to wander around a downtown that had been closed off to traffic and also was not a place frequented by tourists. We were the only white faces in the crowd!

Back to the aggressive drivers on the road, beggars beside the road pretending to fill the potholes, shacks out in the fields that are home to many, giant spiders crossing the road (you know a spider is big if you can clearly see him well ahead of you on the road while going 70km/hr), flooded fields, huts perched on small mud berms, white Brahma cattle, stork like birds, and the ever present heat.

The city of Villahermosa began to appear from the cane fields and we followed our guide book directions to a compound where we could supposedly park but found it all locked up and no one around and it did not look used so once again we found ourselves at dusk wondering where to stay. We looked for an Auto-Hotel (these are motels strategically placed on the outskirts of most towns that are used by the locals for romantic interludes, usually very clean and reasonable, even though they have hourly rates posted) but could not find one close. The downtown area was busy because of the holiday and parking was a problem so we finally settled on a recommended hotel in a fashionable area. By this time I was totally exhausted, two days of driving, no sleep the night before and driving all around a new city in the dark looking for a place to stay. The hotel was a classy one frequented by the wealthy Mexicans. It had air conditioning, swimming pool, gym, our own safe in the room, and a king-size bed!

Diane had been dreaming of a Pizza Hut for several weeks and I had told her that there were none in Mexico but I was proven wrong because there was one just across the street. After a cooling shower we walked over to it and were treated to the best pizza we had ever had. It was the opening day of the restaurant (talk about coincidence) and as visiting connoisseurs we were treated like royalty.

Villahermosa is an extremely wealthy (oil) and modern city. As we settled into our soft, cool bed we wondered at the variety we had experienced in just three short days. Camping in the cool, highland ejidos to the dangerous, humid poverty of Veracruz, to the luxury of a suite in Villahermosa. Once again we gave thanks for what we had been given.