Finished, fueled, and feline-friendly

We are still at the Paradise South Resort in Mercedes, Texas (map). The relief operation is over (mostly - more on that in a moment) and we are on our own.

Sunday turned out to be the last full day of the operation for us. We had a late (9am) start, but the intention was still to get the truck mostly loaded in the cool of the morning. Alas, it was not to be. David brought the truck around to the loading door, only to discover that the padlock that was originally on the truck had been switched out during the course of the operation by some other department that borrowed the truck. (The truck is a national fleet asset, and has to be available when on an operation for any operational needs.)

Of course, by this time we were about the only ones left in HQ, and the keys to said padlock were nowhere to be found. No doubt they were in some volunteer's luggage, 30,000' over Iowa by this time.

I owned up to having both a set of 30" bolt cutters and an angle grinder with a cutoff wheel in the bus, and so it was decided that I would run home and get the bolt cutters to get the lock off. After about a 15-minute round trip to retrieve them, I started in on the lock, an unassuming looking Master model with a hexagonal shackle.

I'd like to say that the bolt cutters made short work of the lock, as they have done countless times before, but the truth is the other way around: I literally broke the jaws of the cutters. I'm sorry now that I did not take a photo before I threw them away -- it was truly impressive.

Back to the bus I went, sorry, now, that I did not take the extra ten minutes to excavate to the angle grinder on my first trip, buried, as it was, in the depths of the spare parts bay, behind the entire collection of lawn chairs, patio mats, and tables. 20 minutes later I was back at the lock, and, after fiddling around for another five minutes, I was finally able to attack it by having someone hold it in place by jamming the handle of a hammer behind it.

The angle grinder made it through both sides of the shackle in under two minutes, but the damage to the schedule was already done -- it was nearly 11 by the time we started loading the truck.

And so it was that we did not actually finish de-commissioning and packing everything until after 8pm, at which time we slammed the door on the truck and trundled over, truck and all, to Milano's Italian restaurant in Weslaco for a final team dinner. The rest of the gang left for San Antonio first thing Monday morning directly from their hotel in McAllen, so we bid everyone a fond farewell.

Monday for us was really our first chance to catch up on sleep, as well as all those other pesky things that fall by the wayside while we are engrossed in a relief operation, such as paying bills. We both caught up on a month's backlog of email, and finally got a chance to put away myriad things that have piled up around the house, including various tools and other items that we took out to use at the office.

Monday afternoon we drove into Harlingen to check out what remains of the operation, the "transition team" working out of the chapter office. While we elected to officially process off the job effective Tuesday morning, we had a report that the transition team would be wrapping up Wednesday evening, and we agreed to stick around until they were done, to pack up and ship the transition equipment, and provide any support that might be needed along the way. As such, we had made arrangements to keep the rental car until Wednesday evening.

What we learned Monday, though, was that the Wednesday date was a complete red herring -- they will be working all the way through to next Monday. We don't want to stick around with our hands in our pockets till then, nor does it make sense to keep the rental car another week, so we spent a few minutes showing the lead over there how to pack everything and keep the finicky printer running, and told them we'd be around till mid-week if they had any problems. (The car is on a monthly rental, by the way.) We also stopped by the warehouse, also in Harlingen, to check on the lone computer and printer located there, but the place was deserted.

Yesterday we locked our personal computers and all our Red Cross paraphenalia in the rental car, packed up the bus, unplugged, and headed across the bridge to Nuevo Progreso for fuel. (Leaving the computers back at the RV park locked in the car meant not having to explain two computers to Mexican customs, who are rumored to be suspicious of personal computers in general, and more than one in particular, and also not risking having them inspected or possibly detained by US customs, who are invigorated by a recent court ruling affirmng that they can do so -- there's nothing to be found on them, but losing them would be a huge pain.)

As we rolled up to the International Bridge, and got ready to fork over our toll, a Customs and Border Protection (CBP) agent came running across the street to quizz us about why we were driving the bus across, and perhaps persuade us to park on the US side and just walk across. We did not want to debate with him any issues related to importation of diesel fuel (although the amount in question is well within our personal exemption), and so we simply explained that we had our pets with us and they could not be left unattended in a 105° parking lot while we wandered around town. He nevertheless insisted on doing a cursory inspection of the bus, including the bays, making us wonder just exactly what authority CBP has to perform such inspections on vehicles exiting the country.

After crossing the bridge (for US$9.75 -- we had $2 ready as per the sign, which neglected to include the amount for three-axle vehicles), we enjoyed yet another inspection on the Mexican side, by no fewer than four agents, all of whom appeared to just want to look inside, and chat among themselves about what it must cost. We were simply waved through the military checkpoint a few yards further along, and then the real trouble started.

After crossing the first side street and making it half a block down the main boulevard, we were stopped dead in our tracks by a low wire. We saw it snag just as two locals did, and they were kind enough to stop traffic behind us and help back us out to the intersection. We could see similarly low wires all along the street, and we knew from the satellite photos that the Pemex station was all the way at the other end of town. I was able to muster up enough Spanish to ask where the truck route was ("¿dónde está la ruta de camiones?") and they gestured down the side street -- between the two of us we made out enough of what they said to know approximately where we were going.

The side street brought us to a dirt ramp up to a levee, which is where the truck lanes are (the trucks have their own bridge, adjacent to but separate from the auto bridge). The truck route turned out to be paved for only half a mile -- we rumbled along a rutted dirt road the last mile or two. The road came out right at the Pemex station, just north of the highway, and we rolled up to the truck pumps. I was surprised to see the price posted at MX$6.10 per liter, as I had just read that it was $5.93, but that's a difference of only US$0.08 per gallon, and this is the only Pemex in Nuevo Progreso.

We put in a full 302 gallons (1,143 liters) for an even MX$7,000 (US$707) with the tip for the attendant, working out to US$2.34 per gallon, or a savings of around $600 over what we would pay here in Texas.

Sadly, we were unable to see any more of the town or take in a meal, and we simply worked our way back out the way we came in. Uncharacteristically, the Mexicans were more lenient with the bridge toll, assesing us only MX$41 (US$4.10) to cross. We had hoped to stop and turn in our FMT's (tourist permits) from our last jaunt, as they will expire in two months, but there was no place to park Odyssey while doing so. Of course we had the usual circus-clown parade of CBP agents crawling through the bus on the US side, including the guy who had run across the street an hour ago, wondering why we were back so soon. We just recounted the low-wire story, which prompted a smug look and an "I told you so."

Today, after dropping Angel off at the vet (on advice of several people who suggested that the recent pee-on-the-rug episodes might be evidence of a urinary problem), we returned to the international bridge. The rental car is not permitted to leave the US, so we parked in the $2 lot on this side of the bridge, paid the $0.25 pedestrian toll, and walked across to deal with the FMT's. While we were there, we walked a couple blocks along the main street dodging the vendors hawking every imaginable craft, as well as pharmacopeia and dentistry, and had lunch at upscale Arturo's, which reminded us very much of one of our favorite restaurants in San Jose, California, "Original Joes." A very nice meal, complete with a Negro Modelo, came to $20 for the two of us.

Angel, it turns out, does have some type of urinary infection, and so we now have yet another pet on daily meds. At least we have some hope that the incessant peeing will stop when she gets past it. The vet had her all day, and she was very happy to see us when we picked her up this evening.

We're giving the folks in the warehouse until tomorrow morning to get back to us; if not, we'll turn in the car at Avis right across the highway, and get ready to leave town.

"Where Yee-Hah Meets Olé"

We are at the Wal-Mart in Eagle Pass, Texas (map), a town whose official slogan entitles this post (really).

We had a pleasant and uneventful jaunt through Mexico yesterday. After running some errands in Laredo, including a quick stop at Wal-Mart for windshield washer fluid and other essentials (but no terrorist food items), the bank to get cash for fuel, and the Goodwill to relieve ourselves of five bags of clothing and other items (which Mexico is wont to tax if they think you might leave them there), we made our way to the international bridge to Nuevo Leon.

It's quite amazing to see just how many trucks, freight yards, warehouses, terminals, and other trade facilities there are in Laredo, the largest land port of entry to the US. At some point we passed a conga line of trucks that must have extended for two miles, probably the tail end of the line for the World Trade Bridge.

US$4.50 got us across the river, and, after a cursory inspection at the Aduana, we were waved through, only to undergo an immediate military inspection just 50 yards further on. Their curiosity satisfied, we found our way to the bank just past the customs facility and changed US$400 into MX$4,120, a rate of 10.3, not bad for right at the border. The current wholesale rate is 10.45, which is a fair bit less than the $10.65 it was just a few weeks ago.

The Pemex came up just a few miles later, at the intersection with Mexico 2, and we were relieved to find that diesel is still MX$5.76 per liter. At the 10.3 exchange rate, that works out to US$2.116 per gallon, as compared to the current price in Texas of anywhere from $4.10 to $4.20 per gallon. We put MX$4,000 in the tank, and headed northwest toward Acuña.

We had planned to spend perhaps one night in Mexico and cross back at the Amistad Dam, just past Acuña/Del Rio. Just before reaching Piedras Negras, though, we changed our minds and decided to just cross back there, making last night an easy stop at Wal-Mart. I still had about 800 pesos, and so we put another 700 pesos worth of fuel in at Piedras Negras, making our total fill in Mexico 215.5 gallons at about US$456. At that price, we saved ourselves over $430, making the detour through Mexico and the US$9 in bridge tolls very much worthwhile.

As usual, we had every Customs and Border Protection agent in Eagle Pass go through the bus, including the enormous drug-sniffing German Shepherd, necessitating evacuating the pets before the inspection. We were ready for the agriculture issues this time, having already hard-boiled all our eggs, and scrupulously avoiding keeping any uncooked meats, pork products, or fruits on board. We had one apple, which I ate on the way to the crossing.

The Wal-Mart here, occupying half of what used to be the municipal airport, is easily half the size of the entire enclosed mall across the street -- one of the largest stores I've ever been in. We stocked back up on apples and meat. Last night we wandered across the street to the mall, where, as usual, we found we needed absolutely nothing. Nor did we recognize any of the features playing at the cineplex. We did, however, stop in at Applebees for dinner, where we are fond of the salads.

Today we will head north along the river to Del Rio, then turn inland on Texas 163. We are diverting a bit east of our previously planned route of US285 to meet up with some folks who are driving out from Forth Worth.

Almost idyllic

We are at the Colorado Canyon primitive campground, right on the Rio Grande, in Big Bend Ranch State Park (map).

Shortly after leaving Tres Marias yesterday, we came upon another "Y" not marked on our maps, this time a turn off for yet another new, unmarked cuota. I'm sure the cuota would have been faster and involved less hill climbing, but we elected to continue to Ojinaga on the libre (free) route.

We're glad we did. In addition to getting to see the little town of Coyame on the Rio Conchos, the road ascends through some incredibly beautiful countryside, culminating at a summit overlooking the spectacular Peguis canyon on the Conchos. This slot canyon rivals many in the US southwest, and I'm sorry we did not have the wherewithal to hike down to it for a better view.

We rolled into Ojinaga after a couple hours, and found a Pemex station with a cambio attached (I needed to change more dollars to fill up). We put in 770 liters (203 gallons) at $5.75 pesos each for a total of $4,420 pesos, around US$425 at the prevailing exchange rate of about 10.4. That figures to around $2.09 per gallon, or just over half what it costs in Presidio, Texas ($4.10 per gallon). In fact, while we fueled, several diesel pickups with Texas plates passed through the station -- folks have figured out that it's way cheaper to fill up across the border.

We paid our $37 peso (~US$3.50) 3-axle toll and crossed the bridge into the states, just downstream of the confluence of the Conchos.

At the US border station, we drew the short straw and got some buckaroo who needed to impress either his boss or perhaps the several cute young female officers on the watch. This guy was loaded for bear, insisting that we declare everything (but refusing to be clear with us about exactly what items needed to be declared), and implying that he was going to fine us (or maybe arrest us) if he found any undeclared items aboard. Sheesh, give it a rest. We had far less trouble or attention from any of the aduanas or military checkpoints in Mexico.

This time, at least, we had remembered to hard-boil the remainder of our eggs before crossing. Still, we lost a pair of nice apples and half a package of salami, all bought in Douglas, Arizona. Foolish of me, actually, to have bought the salami -- I had forgotten that lunch meats are high on the hit list. On the positive side, he did not asses any duty on our liquor cabinet or wine cellar, all of which I declared after the stern lecture.

As with last time, the head honcho wandered over to look at the bus -- this one was wearing colonel's birds on his shoulders (and I still have not cracked the Customs and Border Protection rank insignia code), and he was nothing but pleasant, as were the aforementioned cute young female officers, all of whom just absolutely had to traipse through the coach.

Ironically, after all the tough talking (and, apparently, turning on every light in the coach), they did not even ask us to open any of the bays. Once, as a mental exercise while passing through one of the numerous Border Patrol checkpoints across the southwest, we calculated how many Mexicans could be stacked in the scooter bay (without the scooters, of course), and decided it could be a couple dozen. Never once has the Border Patrol asked us to open those doors. But watch out for the salami!

After clearing customs, we made two complete circuits of the tiny burg of Presidio looking for a grocery store. There is only one, the "Thriftway", which fortunately turned out to be reasonably well stocked. No salami, though. But we were able to provision ourselves for a week or so, which is how long we're contemplating staying in Big Bend.

By this time it was fairly late in the day -- miraculously, we lost two hours as we crossed the river. Chihuahua is on Mountain Time, and Presidio is on Central Time, accounting for one hour of the difference. Mexico is on standard time right now -- their Daylight Savings Time begins this Sunday, whereas (most of) the US is on Daylight Savings already, congress having moved the date up by several weeks -- accounting for the other hour. So we rolled onto the bridge around 3pm and off it around 5pm.

Our quick tour of Presidio revealed that it lacked overnight options, nor was anything in town (such as a restaurant) appealing enough to warrant finding one. We elected instead to continue along the river on Farm Road 170, having remembered several primitive camp sites in the state park.

In order to camp here, one needs first to have paid the park entrance and camping fees, which happens at the Fort Leaton State Historic Park just east of Presidio. The park was closed when we arrived, but there is an iron ranger and a stack of permit envelopes. The risk, of course, is that you will pay your fee and then find all three of the road side camp sites either full or inaccessible. We had scoped them out three years ago, though, and figured we could get into at least one of them.

As it turns out, we had this spot all to ourselves last night, even though it can accommodate perhaps half a dozen vehicles. The river here, which is just a few yards from us, appears suitable for swimming, and we are in a small canyon with stark beauty all around us. It felt like absolutely a perfect spot as the last light faded from the day.

This morning it is equally perfect, but in the darkness of the night the spot's one defect became clear: bugs. Specifically, millions and millions of gnats.



In spite of reasonably good screens on the windows (which we had open all around because it was still in the 80's), gnats are small enough to probe their way in through whatever tiny openings present themselves, and, with even just a few dim lights (including our computer screens) on, they came inside by the thousands. We finally had to put our small table lamp on one of the counters to keep them corralled in one section of the bus, so we could use our computers (mostly) in peace. This morning I was able to shoo most of them out by opening the roof hatch, though many had to just be vacuumed up, dead or alive.

Today is cooler than yesterday, but I am hoping it will be warm enough before our 2pm checkout time to go for a quick swim in the river. Tonight, we should be in Big Bend National Park.

On the home stretch

We are parked in front of the restaurant Tres Marias, on Mexico 16 a few miles east of the ghost town of El Morrión (map). According to my mapping software, we are less than two hours from Ojinaga and the border crossing to Presidio, Texas.

We had not really intended to come quite this far yesterday. Our goal was to be all the way through Ciudad Chihuahua, stopping perhaps just beyond the outskirts, where our map showed the town of Juan Aldama. Ironically, we had stopped at a Pemex just a few km short of Aldama to change a fuel filter (we've been noticing a lack of power on take-off), which would have made a good overnight stop.

The drive from Ricardo Flores Magón was pleasant and swift -- the toll road, while only two lanes and undivided, was posted at 100kph (62mph), which is about as fast as we ever drive. In contrast, most of the roads we've been on have been posted at 80 max (50mph). The privilege cost us $130 pesos ($12.50), though -- the diesel to go around the free route would have been cheaper.

The stretch of Mexico 45 from the intersection of the cuota to Chihuahua was familiar to us, since we did it last October on our caravan. As we arrived in the city, we found the new bypass around the east side of town, missing most of the traffic, stoplights, and bustle of Chihuahua.

Once past the bulk of the city, we headed east on Mexico 16, stopping briefly at the aforementioned Pemex. Just a few minutes later, we arrived at Juan Aldama, only to find that large vehicle traffic (that would be us) is diverted around the town completely on a bypass. This had us passing no businesses suitable for an overnight stop, and facing the prospect of either turning back into the town, where who knows what low wires or other bus-traps might exist, or backtracking to the Pemex several km back towards Chihuhua.

We opted instead to press on ahead, reasoning that surely there would be a roadside business of some sort, at least in the town of El Morrión if not sooner. After another half hour of driving, our disappointment was palpable when El Morrión came into view -- an abandoned cluster of buildings along the train tracks, down an impassable (for us) dirt road. We continued on over the next rise, and were relived to find this solitary business here in the valley, with a spectacular view of the hills we just traversed.

Today we will reach Ojinaga, where we will seek out a Pemex with diesel so we can fill up before crossing the Rio Bravo Del Norte (Rio Grande). If they don't take credit cards (most Pemex franchisees do not), we'll also need to find an ATM to get some cash.

We'll likely be in Texas by day's end.

Truck stops -- the same everywhere

We are parked in a large dirt lot between a Pemex station and the "Tee-Pee" restaurant, at the edge of ejido Ricardo Flores Magón (map).

The lot is basically a truck stop, situated, as it is, at the junction of three major highways -- Mexico 10, on which we arrived from Buenaventura, Chihuahua 195 which goes north to Juarez, and the new cuota (toll road) to ciudad Chihuahua. It is this latter road that we will be taking in a short while.

After a pleasant and quiet stay in Janos, we had a nice drive yesterday on Mexico 10. We opted to take the bypass route around the city of Neuvo Casas Grandes, after first debating whether we wanted to make a stop there to ride out to the Paquime archeological site near Casas Grandes. Neither of us is a pottery buff, and we've seen our share of native American ruins, so we elected to skip it on this trip.

Somewhat south of NCG, we came upon a "Y" in the road that did not show on any of our maps. Apparently, the cuota has been extended from here in Flores Magón all the way to that point. Without good information, and somewhat lacking in cash anyway, we ended up on the old route through Galeana and Buenaventura before we realized the cuota would have lopped off a corner.

Just as well, since taking the bypass around NCG meant we missed the bank there, and we still needed pesos. We drove right past a Santander Bank in Buenavenura, and there was even an Odyssey-sized parking space right across the street. At least we have some more cash now, for today's tolls as well as any more meals. We'll need one more cash infusion before we leave, so that we can top off the fuel tank in Ojinaga before we cross into Texas.

After an incredible sunset, we walked over to the native-American themed Tee-Pee restaurant last night for dinner, as it looked the most appealing of the three restaurants surrounding us, one of which is essentially a snack bar attached to the Pemex station (which also had a laundry and hot showers, like many truck stops in the states). As has been the case since we left Agua Prieta, we are basically in a gringo-free zone, and virtually no one speaks any English, leaving us to muddle through in our very limited Spanish. Louise had garlic shrimp, which was quite good. I ordered an "enchilada," which arrived as more or less a chicken salad, with chunks of chicken, peas, potato, and lettuce mixed in a dressing of some sort -- on a plate, not in a tortilla. Not at all what I expected, but tasty nonetheless.

Tonight we should be on the other side of Chihuahua city.

¡Ay! Chihuahua

We are in Janos, Chihuahua, parked in the courtyard of the Hotel Janos (map).

It was past one o'clock by the time we finally cleared through the border yesterday. We did our shopping in the morning at Wal-Mart, got a couple of items into the US mail that needed to get out, and started to prepare for the crossing. At some point, we remembered that we needed three copies of most of the paperwork (driver's licenses, vehicle titles, registrations, etc.), and we went back into the store in search of a copier.

Wal-Mart did not have one, but Safeway did, and we had the copies and were on our way a little past noon. There was no line at all for the Mexican side, and we drove up to the designated spot for RV's. After a cursory inspection by the Aduana (customs), we walked inside to immigration to get our tourist cards, and the Banjercito for our vehicle permit(s).

There was a brief moment of confusion regarding the scooters, but, after a quick check with a supervisor, we were informed that both were under the limit for importation paperwork -- they were considered "toys" and did not need any. (When we bought Louise's scooter last year, we were under the mistaken impression that the limit was 50cc, which is, in part, how we ended up with a 49cc Honda. The limit is actually 500cc, which would admit some fairly major bikes. My 150cc Kymco is well under.)

About $50 bought us an import permit for Odyssey that is good for a full ten years. The tourist visas cost us about another $50, good for six months. We'll easily save this $100 on our next fuel stop, making this visit to Mexico "free."

We had to zig-zag through Agua Prieta, due to some deep vados at the street intersections that Odyssey could not traverse straight-on. Once we were on Mexico 2, it was smooth sailing, although the highway is quite narrow, making for some butt-clenching passes of oncoming trucks at speed.

Mexico 2 follows the border all the way to the Sonora-Chihuahua line, south of the New Mexico bootheel. It then turns south as it crosses the mountains, a good climb of several thousand feet, liberally sprinkled with 25mph switchbacks.

While there are plenty of roadside turnouts that, had they been in the US southwest, we would have considered to be prime overnight stops, our comfort level with this sort of thing in Mexico is somewhat lower. This is particularly true in the border region, where the trafficking of both drugs and humans attracts more of a criminal element than elsewhere in Mexico. So we proceeded here, to the first town on 2 east of Agua Prieta.

We made two full passes of the town, looking for a restaurant or other business where we could ask for permission to "passar la noche." At around 5pm, however, most restaurants were not yet open. The ones that were had several big rigs parked out front -- this town is essentially a big rest stop along this major truck route. Without any sort of guide to inform our choice, we had to go on appearance alone, and this place looked freshly renovated and trying to appeal to the limited tourist business in town.

When we asked if we could spend the night, we were invited to do so, but our intentions to patronize the restaurant were thwarted by the fact that it is not yet open. The proprietor declined to accept any payment unless we wanted to use one of the electric outlets (we did not) -- apparently they have had RV's here before. The courtyard was comfortable, quiet, and secure, and we had a peaceful night. There are perhaps two guests in the hotel, at least one of whom is a gringo who wandered over to ask about the bus.

This morning we will head south on Mexico 10, through Nuevos Casas Grandes.

Mail-less in Somerton

We are at the Cocopah Casino in Somerton, Arizona (map).

Yesterday we had a fantastic drive through the real Mexico on our way to San Luis del Rio Colorado. By "real" I mean a part of Mexico where absolutely everyone waved at us enthusiastically, not a single sign was in English, nor a single price posted in US dollars. We saw plenty of US license plates, but not a single other gringo. (I don't know why Mexicans are driving around with California plates, and I'm not going to ask.) I have to admit to some small trepidation before taking this route, but we are really glad we did it.

The trepidation, incidentally, came not from any safety concerns (although everyone seems to ask us about that), but rather that Odyssey can be difficult to maneuver in tight quarters, or through stands of low-hanging trees, or on roads with significant vertical inflections. Maps of most of Mexico are spotty at best, and the coverage in our GPS is almost non-existent.

What made this segment possible and mostly worry-free for us was Google Earth. It turns out that most of the route had high-res satellite imagery in the database, and I was able to scope the whole route out fairly well from the air. I also used Google Earth to push-pin all the turns along the way, and then I translated those into waypoints to be loaded into the Garmin 7200, which then gave us a great deal of navigational confidence.

And so it was that we passed through Colonia La Mariana, Ejido Durango, Ejido Dr. Alberto Oviedo Mota, Colonia Aguascaliente, Estacion Coahuila, and La Grullita, on our way to Sonora and San Luis del Rio Colorado. Mostly small towns, and 100% Mexican, although I suspect the gringo dirt-toy crowd comes through periodically (we saw signs for "Sand Drags" occasionally, the only English words we saw other than "car wash", now a bona-fide Mexican noun).

We stopped at a large Pemex outside San Luis, and, after checking that they took credit cards (rare for Pemex, but more and more operators are taking them), I proceeded to top off the fuel tank, another 550 liters (145 gallons) at the same 5.73 pesos per liter that we paid in Mexicali (and also saw in San Felipe), or, again, about $2.07 per gallon. Interestingly, this station was self-service, also rare in Mexico, so after talking to the guy in the little booth, I pumped the fuel myself. The trouble then started when I went to pay, wherein the attendant told me my Visa was declined.

They did not accept any of my other cards, so Louise tried her Visa with the same results. OK, no problem, I figure that perhaps Visa just did not know we'd be in Mexico and were being cautious, so I'll have to call. Off to the Oxxo across the street, where I am told there are cassetas de telefonos.

40 pesos later, I've found out that not only is my card good, but no attempt has been made to process it, according to the bank, so it could not have been declined. Back to the Pemex.

After a little more back and forth in my very broken Spanish, the attendant finally figures out that the transaction amount, over 3,000 pesos, is probably too big for his terminal. Aha! Why didn't I think of that earlier, before traipsing off to the Oxxo? This has happened to us even in the US -- the card terminals at many gas stations have a strict limit of X dollars that they will run, and if you try to go over that amount, the error message is often cryptic and can appear to be a "card declined." After re-running it as two transactions of 2,000 and 1,150 pesos, all was well. But is cost us about an hour at the Pemex (and 40 pesos at the Oxxo).

We proceeded from there through the bustling city of San Luis and lined up for the border. We lost track of time, but it was well over an hour in line before we made it to the inspection station, where the well-scarred steel and concrete bollards were only an inch or maybe two further apart than the span of our mirrors. I had to line up precisely straight, and ease through carefully, with one-inch jogs to the left or right as needed to clear.

We were immediately busted for carrying eggs, which earned us a full-tour inspection further ahead. Again I had to ease through, because if I just made the left the guy wanted me to, I would have obliterated one of the guard shacks with my tail swing (right until I hit another bollard -- these guys are ready for tanks and APCs to come at the border).

As Odyssey often does, we attracted enough attention that every Customs and Border Protection (CBP) guy who was not otherwise busy (and please explain to me, with an hour-plus line, how any of them could not be busy?) showed up for the tour, including some head honcho with rank insignia that would have said "Major" if he was in the Army (I have no idea how to read CBP rank insignia).

They confiscated the eggs, but believed us when we told them the dozen-plus bottles of wine and liquor came with us from the states, especially after Louise asked, "Have you had the wine in Mexico? It's terrible." Meanwhile the Major and I had a long chat outside about the bus, and he was particularly interested in what we paid for diesel in Mexico, on account of having a diesel pickup truck himself, and thinking about putting an extra tank in the bed so he can fill up south of the border.

Other than the eggs, we cleared the border without hassle, but between the Pemex Visa debacle, the line to get in to los Estados Unidos, and the CBP dog and pony show, it was well past dark. San Luis, Arizona, has a brand-new Wal-Mart Supercenter, and we stopped to check it out. Uncharacteristically, Louise was really hankering for dining out, and this new store was far enough from town that there were no dining options at all, other than the Subway inside the store. So we just picked up some fresh produce and other essentials -- for some reason, we needed eggs -- and then moved on, knowing that this casino was here just another 15 miles down the road.

We did have to drive right through Somerton and the post office where our mail should be, but only overshot by three miles or so. The casino has a designated RV parking area -- almost an RV park, really, with wide and well-marked spaces but no hookups. They charge $5 to park overnight, but that amount is good for up to three nights. The 50-space lot was nearly full, and we were lucky to find a space. We soon found out why: there is really no limit on how long you can stay, as long as you keep paying the $5 every three days. $1.67 per night is pretty cheap, and the whole lot is full of (mostly) Canadian snowbirds, some of whom look like they've been here all season.

The casino and adjoining hotel (and, adjacent to that, the old casino no longer in use) have enormous parking lots, and I imagine if the RV lot had been full, the same $5 would have allowed us to park in one of those. After we got squared away and paid our $5 in the gift shop, we had dinner at the lone restaurant on-property, a buffet affair that was, uh, acceptable, and priced right at $10. Most of the choices were -- can you guess -- Mexican, as were all of the half dozen restaurants in town three miles away.

Today I pulled the scooter out to go get the mail, which, it turns out, has not yet arrived. Priority Mail from the US Post Office has "priority": We just don't tell you what Priority you'll get. Good thing our $5 covers us for tonight, too.

Tomorrow I will make another mail run. With any luck, we'll be ready to go, mail in hand, by mid-day. Not that we are in a hurry to get anywhere, but as of tonight we are now completely out of water, having last filled up on February 29th, and we'd like to shower.

Final night in Mexico, for now

We are still on the beach at Playas Del Sol. We've had a relaxing five days here, and tomorrow we will pull up stakes and head for San Luis del Rio Colorado and the US border.

The weather has been quite pleasant, if a bit windy at times, and we have been grilling every night and eating in. We had to make two market runs -- one for milk and eggs, as we had run out of breakfast fixin's, and this morning for some fresh veggies, which we had also exhausted, to go with tonight's steak. We never made it back to Juanito's to use our remaining Margarita coupons.

We did get out for breakfast yesterday, running up to Jimmy's Beach Bar and Grill at Playa de Oro. I have to say that I found Jimmy's and the adjoining pool facilities there to be a nicer environment than the facilities up at El Dorado -- if we ever do end up looking at property here, Playa de Oro would be ahead of El Dorado on my list.

We had a mostly quiet and relaxing stay here. Friday night, a couple of guys in a pickup truck parked right in the middle of the vado next to us, and blasted music at high volume until 6am. They then proceeded to sleep the whole day on the beach in the shade of their truck. We very nearly started the engine at 3am to drive down right next to them and smoke them out with our exhaust while frying their retinas with the HID flood lights. But it's Mexico, and there are "no bad days."

We were quite relieved, though, to see them pack up late yesterday afternoon and clear out. In fact, we had thought about leaving today, but we decided to stay an extra night just because we have the whole beach to ourselves again (there was another rig here over the weekend, along with a group of guys in a tent, in addition to the noisy Mexicanos) and we wanted our memories of the place to be more on the peaceful side.

For the last few days, we've been mostly just taking it easy around the house, with the gulf as a backdrop. I did get a few projects done, including installing some shelves in the under-sink cabinet, and putting extra lights on my scooter. Louise, on the other hand, has done an incredible amount of work putting together the "tour of Odyssey" videos, which came out very nicely, I think. You'll have to let us know what you think once she has them all posted (we have to spread out the uploads due to thresholds imposed by our satellite service).

Tomorrow morning we will load up the scooters and head out, stopping at the Pemex just north of here to top up with $2.07 diesel before heading to the border. We have a choice of two routes from here to San Luis -- corresponding to the number of bridges that cross the Colorado. I'm leaning toward the more obscure southern route, through Durango, but if we get short on time we will blast up 5 to the new cuota cut-off for 2, which will take us due east to San Luis. With any luck, we will cross the border in time to get our mail before the end of the day, which should be waiting for us at the Somerton post office.

Chillin' on the beach

We are camped on the beach at Playas Del Sol, about ten clicks north of town (map).

Monday evening we went out for dinner again, this time at Baja Mar on the malecón. My shrimp was delicious, but they overcooked Louise's fish. Cheaper than the Red Lobster, but still a far cry from the "authentic" Mexico, whatever that means. Tuesday morning we decided to extend our stay at Playa Bonita another night, as the weather was just starting to improve. In the afternoon we piled on Chip two-up and rode up to El Dorado to scope the place out, and also find ourselves some camping on the beach without having to take Odyssey down every dirt road for five miles.

This place was actually the first one we investigated. The road was sandy but mostly hard-packed, and the beachfront "camping" was (and still is) absolutely deserted. We inquired about the rate and gestured about the size of our rig, and were quoted $15 per night, or $90 for a full week.

We bypassed most of the other beach roads north of here, because they looked from the main road to be softer than this one, and the campos to which they led had a more run-down appearance, at least as far as we could see from the highway. We did swing into the infamous Pete's Camp, however.

Getting in and out there would have been a bit of a challenge, due to a fairly steep cobblestone driveway leading the last few hundred feet down to the beach. Once on the beach, things looked identical to El Sol, except for the fact that there were half a dozen rigs at Pete's. And, of course, we already knew they'd charge us double -- $30 per night -- for a 39' rig. They did have both a restaurant and a store that were operating, though, in contrast to the El Sol restaurant here which appears closed (though well-maintained). Pete's was, though, right next door to El Dorado, in the event we wanted to take advantage of our pool privileges. We later learned that El Dorado has purchased about half of Pete's property (not including any of the beach frontage) and folded in to the Ventana Del Mar beachfront development.

After scoping out Pete's, our next stop was the office at El Dorado, where we learned that we'd need to come back the next day to meet with one of the agents if we wanted any answers. We did find the parcel on Louise's deed on the map -- it's on a rocky hillside half a mile from the nearest dirt road. We made an appointment for Wednesday afternoon, and set out on the scooter to explore the development on our own.

All of the roads save one are dirt, but well-packed from decades of use. We cruised around for half an hour taking in the enormity of the place, then headed out toward the mystery parcel. We only got about half a mile past the back gate of the developed area before we had to quit -- the road was so washboarded that Chip threatened to rattle apart with each passing meter. We could see, though, from where we stood that the parcel was unreachable except via long hike in good boots, or maybe horseback. We turned around and headed back to town.

Wednesday morning we decided to take advantage of our last day in town by going out to breakfast, and we tried Rosita's, also on the malecón. This, finally, was more the sort of place we have come to expect in Mexico. Traditional fare at reasonable prices. Also the first of the three restaurants where we actually saw Mexicans dining -- the other two joints had been exclusively patronized by gringos.

After breakfast we packed up and headed up to El Sol, with the sort of confidence that only comes from having paid a visit there already. We drove straight to the beach and staked out a perfect end spot overlooking a wash on one side and the gulf out the front. So far, we have had the beach and all the camp sites to ourselves, although there are rows of "houses" just a couple dozen feet behind us. There seem to be about two dozen "residents" here at this writing, and about the same number of dwellings of various descriptions, ranging from a simple pad with an RV on it, to fairly elaborate multi-room houses. This campo has electricity, and possibly a source of brackish water.

This place appears to be pretty typical of the campos. We are told that most of the gringos living here, mostly seasonally, lease the land on a ten or 20 year basis from the owner of the campo, and then develop whatever they need to be comfortable. Most of the campos are developed along the beachfront, with a quarter mile of nothingness between the beach and the highway.

After getting ourselves settled in, we pulled both scooters out and headed up to El Dorado, perhaps two miles or so north, on the shoulder of the highway (the limit here is 80kph, and Louise's scoot won't go that fast). We met our agent, Belinda, a 15-year resident of the area, and she was quite informative. We spent pretty much the entire afternoon driving around the development and getting a feel for what is possible on the lots. Outside of the tidy condos near the beach at Ventana Del Mar, it is an eclectic mix of structures. Some of the houses are actually exquisitely executed, and some are quite elaborate.

We learned that the development is subdivided into areas that I will call, for lack of a better term, "neighborhoods." The neighborhoods fall into one of four categories, based on two parameters. One of those is whether or not commercial electricity is available. Each neighborhood is either wired for power or it isn't -- the ones that are not wired are called "solar" lots, and they will never be on the grid. Interestingly, it does not seem to be strictly a function of distance from the mains -- the neighborhoods are pretty well intermixed, wherein you can drive past an electric area, into a solar area, and then right back to an electric area all in a straight line.

The other dimension is "houses only" versus "mixed use." Houses only means just that -- you need to build a house to live on your lot. If you have an RV and wish to park it on your lot, it needs to be in a fully enclosed garage. Mixed use areas permit RV's out in the open, and many lot owners live in their rigs. Some of the lots are nothing more than a dirt pad to park the rig, with maybe a septic system, whereas some lots in these neighborhoods have purpose-built houses every bit as elaborate as those in the "houses only" section. Most lots are somewhere in between, with a parking pad for a rig that serves as living quarters, and any number of accoutrements such as outdoor "kitchens", garages for the toys (everyone here seems to own a sand rail, dune buggy, or ATV), and even mother-in-law apartments.

While there is electricity throughout the area, there is no city water anywhere except for lots on the beachfront side of the highway. So absolutely everyone else has to have water trucked in and stored in a cistern (wells are not permitted, if they were even possible).

I have to say we were somewhat tempted by the relatively inexpensive "solar" lots. After all, we are already quite adept at living off the grid. The premium for lots with electricity is about $30K (solar lots start around $12k, and electric lots just above 40), and I could put together one heck of an alternative energy system for that amount -- I'd guess around five kilowatts. And our deed-of-license (DOL) would buy us a $1,000 discount off any lot we chose.

Then we did the math -- out the door, the cheapest solar lot would cost around 13k after taxes and fees, plus about $600 a year in dues and taxes. That would buy us about 150 weeks solid of camping right here where we are at $90 a week -- and this spot is right on the beach. We'll just hang on to our DOL for something like 50 bucks a year, which gets us into all the nice facilities, and save buying any kind of property here for some day when we're ready to stay put for a while. I'm betting that, when that day comes, San Felipe will not be on the top of our list -- although you never can tell.

We did get several free margarita coupons and $20 off dinner at the restaurant for our troubles. Dinner at Juanito's Cafe, near the beach, was actually quite nice, although I could have done without the Karaoke, targeted, as it was, at the over-70 crowd. "Smoke Gets In Your Eyes," quite literally as there is no distinction between a smoking and non-smoking section of the restaurant.

Today the wind was back, so we just had a relaxing day being complete slugs, surfing the internet while enjoying the gulf view from Odyssey's big picture windows. I am hoping tomorrow will be calm enough to enjoy the beach a little.

Blustery at the beach

We are at the Playa Bonita RV Park and Suites (map). We are just a couple hundred feet from the beach, with a nice view of the Sea of Cortez out our windows. The rate here is US$25 per night, plus $3 tax, full hookups. Most of the power outlets are 15 amps, but we managed to snag a 30.

There are only four rigs here, with eight empty spaces. The "suites" also appear completely empty. This appears to be the norm all over town, with only a handful of exceptions, including the two places right next door (Kiki's and Reuben's) and Campo San Felipe downtown. That in spite of an impressive list of places that are no longer here, including El Dorado, Baja Mar, and the Marina that I mentioned last post, plus Posada Del Mar just down the street, and La Jolla in town, along with myriad campos up and down the coast.

Incidentally, I corrected the last post, wherein I had reported that we looked at Playa Laura on Saturday -- in fact, we glanced at Playa Laura and concluded it was way too cramped to even try. The place we actually stopped in to look at, and which became our "backup plan" was Campo San Felipe just a few doors down.

We awoke yesterday morning in a windstorm. I would estimate winds at a constant 20mph with gusts to 30-35mph. Even stepping outside to walk the dog was a challenge, as we both got sandblasted. The wind kept us more or less trapped indoors, and we stayed on our perch at the defunct port until mid-day, as we still had a great view. In the afternoon, we headed back into town, the wind still blowing, to look for closer digs.

We swung by Victor's, south of town, which was completely empty (maybe closed?). It certainly looked like it would accommodate us without trouble, but was completely unappealing, so we continued north, along the malecón and past the lighthouse to this cluster of parks. Several web sites as well as a couple of our readers recommended Ruben's and/or Kiki's, and we did stop at both to look. Reuben's had no spaces left for us; Kiki's had exactly one, which would have been a tight squeeze. Worse, though was the fact that the covered deck structures adjacent to each space would have completely precluded us from getting on-line there. We chose this spot instead -- just two doors down, and much quieter, two-thirds empty as it is. Certainly easier to jockey the bus around as well.

The wind never let up, so even though we were well parked on a lovely stretch of beach, we pretty much stayed inside the rest of the day. Things calmed down a bit (by which I mean, perhaps half) in the evening, and we decided to brave the elements to go out to dinner. We headed straight for what appeared to be the nicest joint in town, an Italian-fare restaurant attached to a hotel known as La Hacienda de la Langosta Roja (The Inn of the Red Lobster -- no relation). The food was tasty and the wine drinkable (something of an achievement in Mexico), but at stateside prices -- eighty bucks for two entrees, a salad, appetizer, and three glasses of wine. Unsurprising, considering the place is owned by the same mega-developer who owns El Dorado Ranch.

We've paid for two nights here, so tonight we will try something a bit more traditional. And the wind has decreased considerably from yesterday (although still not calm, by any means), so we hope to ride down to the malecón this afternoon just to stroll around. We'll decide whether to add a night or two depending on what we find in town -- otherwise, we will either head down to Puertecitos or up to El Dorado tomorrow.

Frankly, I am not expecting to find much. The town is dying, in what is rather a sad shattered-dreams story. Once upon a time, San Felipe was a sleepy fishing village. We never saw that condition, but wish it were still so, which would give the place much more charm and appeal to us. A concerted effort by FONATUR, investors, and American interests started to transform the place into something of a resort-cum-retirement destination, which after a slow start began to show some promise. The problem, I think, was that a modicum of success by what amounted to the one and only developer in town caught the attention of a plethora of Johnny-come-latelys who saw dollar signs on every parcel.

Within a few years, every parcel with beach access, to include a good number of the old campos, was snapped up by speculators. Tons of glitzy promotional marketing materials were produced, and perhaps a handful of actual buyers materialized to purchase vacation or retirement homes here. The shear number of lots for sale, however, has completely overwhelmed the actual demand. Moreover, without critical mass of residents and vacationers, the services that many people expect or need in order to actually move here have also not materialized. There are few doctors, dentists, ambulances, stores, repair shops, etc. etc., necessitating a 2+ hour trip to Mexicali for anything beyond the most basic needs.

The dozens of billboards one passes on the road here, or web sites one might view when contemplating the journey, would have you believe that the hotel district looks like downtown Cabo San Lucas, and the housing developments look like Sanibel Island. Reality is quite different. The end result is that San Felipe is neither fish nor fowl -- it's not the sleepy fishing village that would constitute "quaint" and "peaceful" and where you might get dinner with a couple of cervezas for a few bucks, but neither is it a destination resort brimming with bars, restaurants, shops, and luxury hotels with enough to satisfy the typical Norteamericano tourist and justify the lofty prices.

We will definitely go to El Dorado to have a look around. But we're wondering whether Puertecitos, more than an hour to the south, might be a bit more of the "real" Mexico.

Boondocking San Felipe

We are parked at an abandoned facility of some sort, right on the gulf and just a few miles south of the village of San Felipe proper (map). When we asked a local we ran into here what the place used to be, he thought it had been the municipal port access, abandoned as the sea began to reclaim part of the shore line.

It certainly has the look and hallmarks of a public works project, with copious street lighting, intricate concrete streets that once were lined with a pattern of brick pavers, large modern manholes, their covers now gone, and three megawatts worth of high voltage transformers. The whole place could not have been more than a dozen or so years old, yet it appears to have been abandoned for years, with any and all salvageable materials long since stolen, including the pavers, the manhole lids, and most of the copper and aluminum from the transformers.

Following the concrete street to its end reveals large chunks have given way and fallen into the sea, due to storms and perhaps the huge tidal swings in this part of the gulf, lending credence to the story we heard. The shifting sand and dunes have obscured large swaths of what's left. We pulled in through one of the two enormous gated arches that once guarded the entrance -- one of the gates has been removed -- and tucked in behind one of the gatehouse buildings, shielding us mostly from view of the road. A handful of locals were using the road for beach access when we arrived.

From our perch here on a hill, we have a wonderful view of the gulf and bay, as well as the city lights in the distance.



Across the bay we can see the distinctive flash of the lighthouse. About an hour after dark, 6:30 or so, a truckload of men in camo fatigues carrying rifles knocked on the door. We did not have either the presence of mind or the powers of observation to figure out if they were Policia or Ejercito (army), but clearly one of their duties was to patrol this area after dark. They spoke no English, and our Spanish is very broken although we can sometimes make one sentence between us. Somehow we all figured out that they wanted to know when we arrived and how long we would be here, and we communicated that we would only be here for the night, which they said would be fine. They seemed concerned that their presence here might disturb us, but we were happy to have them drop by.

We had an uneventful border crossing this morning, after stopping at a cambio stateside to avoid having to perhaps jockey Odyssey around Mexicali looking for pesos. I did not get the best rate, but I probably only gave up a couple of bucks or so on changing $500. I needed that much cash because our first stop in Mexico was a Pemex station on the south side of town, where we took on 500 liters (132 gallons) of diesel for 2,865 pesos ($273), which works out to be $2.07 per gallon, a far cry from the ~$3.70 or so in California.

The drive along the Colorado river valley was beautiful, and the road was in generally good condition, with speeds from 60 to 80 kph (~37-50 mph). After leaving Mexicali, it took us about two hours to reach San Felipe, and we arrived in the vicinity of El Dorado Ranch by around 2pm. My thought had been to stop at one of the several campgrounds in that area, about ten miles north of San Felipe proper. Louise holds a deed of license to some property at El Dorado that we've never seen, and one of our plans on this trip is to do so.

Ironically, El Dorado used to have the nicest campground in all of San Felipe, but they closed it last year to make room for more beach-front condos -- the RV park, being one of the first items built, along with the pool and the bar/restaurant, occupied prime land which has become too valuable for that purpose. (It still shows on Google's satellite view, here.) We knew that before heading down here, and were resigned to staying at one of the neighboring properties. What we had not realized and did not count on was that many, many other campgrounds have suffered the same fate -- bought out by developers, many of whom have done little more than bulldoze the land, as the bottom is now falling out of the market here.

Neither of the two places still open in that area appealed to us from the road, and we elected not to drive the half mile or so down the dirt roads to check them out further. One of the places, Pete's Camp, we already knew would require us to take two spaces at $15 each to fit us in, and that's for dry camping. We opted instead to press on to town, where our guide book (by Mike and Terry Church, the definitive guide to Mexican camping) indicated several options.

That same guide informed us that our best best, due to our length, would be Baja Mar south of the malecón. We arrived there to find the place out of business, closed, and in complete tatters. Campo San Felipe, a few doors down, was open and operating, but a cramped fit (as described in the guide) for Odyssey's 39' length, and with tiny spaces crammed so close together that it was completely unappealing. At least it would be walking distance to much of the town, and they had a space that could accommodate us, with what appeared to be 15-amp power, for $25 a night. We opted to continue looking, but keep this in reserve as the backup plan for tonight.

We passed the marina, where a faded sign suggested a campground. This Google aerial view shows it, but it was gone when we passed. There's nothing there now, but this site shows a plan for more gringo houses there -- "South Beach Residential."

We ended up driving a full dozen miles south of town, only to discover that virtually every former campo is now a beachfront housing development in progress. We finally found one that was still a campground -- Rancho Punta Estrella, but there was so much soft sand on the entrance road that we dare not try to make it inside. Too bad, as the colossal place was, literally, empty.

Reluctantly and somewhat defeated, we headed back to town and our backup plan at Campo San Felipe. Along the way we encountered this place, which had caught our eye on the way south. By this time it was past four, with only an hour or so of daylight left, and we were tired of hunting. So far, it has turned out to be a good stop, affording us a chance to regroup before heading in to town tomorrow to check out the other three or four places that the Church's felt would be tight for rigs over 35'. We often find we have few problems with such places, because Odyssey has a better turning radius than many 35 footers. It would be nice to spend at least a couple nights right in town, with the ability to walk to dinner and stroll the malecón.

Now that we've scoped out the road for ten miles in either direction, and followed that up with a couple hours' further research on the 'net, we'll start tomorrow fresh and better informed. Perhaps by Monday we will get back up to El Dorado to finally get a chance to look at this piece of property we allegedly lease.

Super Sunday: Thank you, Bob

On Sundays I write about one of the joys of full-timing

This week I am so grateful that we had the opportunity to take the Copper Canyon Piggyback RV train. Back in October of 2006, we had an amazing adventure loading Odyssey onto the train and taking four days to slowly wind through the canyon while loaded on a flatcar.

I found out several days ago that the Mexican government has prohibited all further RV flatcar trains through Copper Canyon, due to safety concerns. According to Family Motor Coaching Magazine,

"New restrictions from the Mexican government have led caravan companies to rearrange their excursions through Mexico's Copper Canyon, as piggyback train trips through the canyon are no longer available."

The Piggyback train was only available through professional RV caravan tour companies. An independent RV could not just drive up to the train and board. The trains only ran from approximately October through March, and each train held a maximum of 24 rigs.

At the time we booked our caravan in 2005, the waiting list was a year long, and some people had to wait two seasons.

When our departure date approached, my 65-year old stepfather, Bob Tousey, was very, very ill. He was in the final stages of Multiple Myeloma, a terrible blood and bone cancer. We knew in the fall of 2006 that he did not have much time left. Sean and I struggled with whether leaving the country was a wise decision, given Bob's failing health.

In September, 2006, I visited Bob and told him how conflicted we were about the trip. He urged me to go. One of our most faithful blog readers, he wanted to read about the trip. I pressed him again, was he sure it was okay for us to go?

"It's the trip of a lifetime," he said.

"Bob, I'm only 43! I have a lot of lifetime left," I told him.

"That's what I thought, too," Bob said, sadly. "You should go."

So we went. And when Bob entered hospice care while we were gone, we felt awful. But we kept blogging and videoing our adventure so that he could share it. My mother printed out the blog posts and took them to hospice. She read them to Bob, and I hope he really did vicariously enjoy the trip.

The day we re-entered the U.S., my Mom called to say that Bob had taken a turn for the worse, and we rushed up to see him one last time. He slipped away about 24 hours after we returned.

Bob was right, it was the trip of a lifetime. It never occurred to me that it wasn't my lifetime that was ending, but the lifetime of the train itself. And while it was so hard to leave Bob behind, it was a blessing that to have his permission to go. I hope that somewhere, somehow, he knows how grateful we are for that permission.

Thank you, Bob.

The RV piggyback train that is no more:

Observations on Mexico

Well, I have a few minutes to collect my thoughts, so I am going to deliver on my promise to share our Mexico observations with you here. If I get ambitious at some later date, I will try to turn this into a feature page on our main web site, which has not had a content update in quite a while.

First, let me say that there are many, many resources for people traveling to Mexico by RV, and it is not my intent to duplicate those excellent works here. If you're thinking of going, then I recommend you spend some time surfing the web sites, and also pick up copies of some of the printed references. I have listed some of the resources at the end of this post. What follows, then, is my very subjective and personal opinion of our experience, derived from our recent 38-day caravan.

To Caravan or Not?

This was the first question we had to answer, and it might be yours as well. If you have been reading this blog for any length of time, you are doubtless aware that we are not the caravaning type. We don't generally travel with other rigs, we seldom stay in RV parks, we almost never make advance reservations, and we prefer to travel at our own pace, which varies even from day to day.

That being said, we had two good reasons to do this caravan. First and foremost, we really wanted to do the piggyback train through the Copper Canyon, and that is a caravan-only proposition. Second, we'd heard (as you likely have also) many tales of inexperienced travelers suffering various and sundry mishaps in Mexico. While we had the gut sense that most of the stories were myths, or at least exaggerated or embellished, there was some comfort in having the benefit of experienced guides and well-established routes and stopping points on our first foray into the unknown.

Now that we're back, I can say unequivocally that, for us, a caravan was a wholly unnecessary "precaution" to entering Mexico for the first time. Yet, we are glad we did it to get on the train, and glad we took the long tour because going down just for the piggyback experience would have been much too short.

Bottom line: If you are thinking at all about going to Mexico, don't hesitate to go on your own. On the other hand, if you are considering the piggyback train, then book as soon as you can (tours fill up over a year in advance) and consider taking one of the longer tours, which are a better value than the shorter ones.

Driving in Mexico

One of the factors we found hard to decipher from the guide books and other resources was the road condition and driving environment in Mexico. Horror stories abound, and, to listen to some folks, driving anywhere in Mexico is nothing short of trailblazing through uncharted desert. On the flip side, many guidebooks downplay this, rightly stating that reports of extreme conditions are exaggerated.

Having now driven some 2,000 miles over varying types of roads in Mexico, I can easily see where the confusion arises.

The US Interstate system is a marvel of modern engineering (really, when you look into it), inspired half a century ago by the emerging German autobahns. The design standards are quite strict, with minimum specifications for lane width, radius of curvature, crown and bank of roadway, steepness and rate of change of grade, durability, and load-bearing. Nothing coming even remotely close to these design standards exists in Mexico.

When you hear or read, for example, that the Cuotas, or toll roads, in Mexico are "like" the Interstate system in the US, what it means is that these roads are intended to serve a similar purpose. It does not mean that the design standards are similar. So if you go to Mexico expecting to find a driving experience similar to the Interstate, you are in for a rude awakening.

I have my suspicions that the tales of horror about driving in Mexico originate with people who never venture far from the Interstate in the US, and were wholly unprepared for unending miles of secondary-like roads. Our own experience was quite different.

As you know, we seldom drive on the Interstate, preferring instead the "blue" highways -- state primary and secondary routes, US highways, and even forest service roads. Four lanes is the lap of luxury, while two is the norm. Shoulders vary from a few inches to several feet, and may or may not be paved.

Primary highways in Mexico are very much like secondary roads in the states. If your normal routine in the US limits you to a few dozen miles a day on secondary roads, then a 250-mile day in Mexico will seem very long indeed.

Some highways in Mexico, and I am thinking here of Mexico 1 in Baja California, are more akin to forest service or tertiary routes in the US. This is the sort of road that we are comfortable on at speeds between 35 and 45 MPH. The limit on these roads in Mexico is around 50 MPH (80 KPH), and the Mexicans drive them a good deal faster than that. This is an area where being in caravan was a liability, since it created a dangerous situation with traffic trying to pass 20 rigs in succession. My advice: drive at the speed that makes you comfortable, and follow the Mexican custom of putting your left blinker on as needed to inform traffic behind you when it is safe to pass.

Several people on our caravan had left-mirror mishaps on highway 1. I attribute this to a combination of lack of experience on narrow, twisting roads in general, and a keep-up-with-the-group mentality. I truly believe there would have been fewer problems had people proceeded at their own pace (both driving speed and how far to go each day). As for the lack of experience, that can be cured before you leave the US. Try Monarch Pass the next time you cross the Rockies, instead of I-70. Cross Nevada on US-50 instead of I-80. I think you'll have a nicer ride, anyway.

Banditos and Federales

Rumors of ruthless banditos and even more ruthless Federales have been greatly exaggerated, at least in the northern states. The only bandito we had trouble with was the Frito Bandito, whose mental image we could not escape (well, those of us of a certain age) during the myriad renditions of Cielito Lindo.

As for the Federales, we did not have any encounters with civilian law enforcement whatever, and the military checkpoints are staffed by 19-year-olds who are just trying to focus on doing their job while at the same time being overwhelmed by more wealth than they will ever have (any American RV represents more money than a Mexican soldier will earn in a lifetime). They were friendly and polite and we were always on our way within a few minutes. If your Spanish is lousy, expect to have to muddle through communicating with them -- few speak any English.

The Mexican People

We found the people of Mexico to be friendly, helpful, and generally pleased to have us there. This experience was more pronounced on the mainland, and in the less-frequented places in general. Making even a token effort to communicate in Spanish is greatly appreciated and goes a long way toward improving diplomatic relations.

Mexicans in Baja, particularly in the tourist areas, tend to be a bit more jaded. I suspect that the "typical" American tourist does not make for a good ambassador of international relations, and this is the result. We tried to distance ourselves from the prototypical tourist image, but that's hard to do when, after all, we were tourists. As with all tourist destinations, expect establishments in these areas to be a little more pricey, and to "take advantage" of what the market will bear. This is no different than in Miami or the Grand Canyon. (The lone gas station in Death Valley routinely charges 50% more for fuel than stations in Baker, CA, the nearest town -- at least Pemex stations charge a nationally set price for fuel.)

Mexico is an impoverished nation, by western standards. Working wages average 50 pesos, or about $5 US, per day. One consequence of this is that, if you shop and eat where the Mexicans do, you can get by in Mexico quite cheaply. The flip side, of course, is that the average American tourist in Mexico represents, to the locals, a level of wealth unattainable their entire lifetime. While many Mexicans live in comfortable houses with running water and modern conveniences, many also live in cobbled-together shacks without plumbing or sanitary facilities. Sometimes, you will see these dwellings side-by-side on the same street. We were constantly mindful of the sort of impression Odyssey might make in such an environment, and we tried to be as inconspicuous as anyone in a giant bus can ever hope to be.

The Best and the Worst

We have been asked many times what part of our Mexico trip we liked the best. I tend not to think in superlatives, so this is a hard question to answer. Instead, let me list some of the high points:

• Camping on the beach. If you forced me to pick a "best," this would probably be it. Falling asleep to the sounds of the surf, no lights at night except the moon and stars, and just a few steps to swimming and snorkeling in the warm waters of the tropics. Several good spots, but I think I liked Playa Tecolote the most.
• Mexican food at local stands and restaurants where no English is spoken at all.
• The train ride through Copper Canyon. Definitely a must-do, either on the passenger train or piggyback. (Some people, apparently, took my statement that I would not do the piggyback again as a recommendation against doing it at all, and this was not my intent. It was definitely the trip of a lifetime and not to be missed -- but once was enough.)
• The pace of life, much slower than here in the US.

As a counterpoint, I feel I should point out the things with which we were the most disappointed. Principally, that would be the amount of trash we saw nearly everywhere we went. Just as the economy and standards of living lag somewhat behind those of the neighbors to the north, so does any sort of culturally inculcated sense of environmental responsibility. Interestingly, residents of suburban streets feel compelled to keep those streets neat and clean, even extending to sweeping the streets by broom. Yet the countryside is littered with bottles, cans, paper, spent auto parts, and even human waste. My only other complaint is that sanitary standards are also somewhat lax, requiring one to always be careful in selecting food and beverage.

Resources:

We have used these printed books:

• Mexico by RV, by Kathy Olivas. This book was given to us by Fantasy Tours as part of our pre-trip materials, and we found it somewhat useful. Olivas was formerly one of their tour staff, and the book is slanted toward the places frequented by the caravans.
• Traveler's Guide to Mexican Camping, by Mike and Terri Church. The Church's, uhh, "wrote the book" on Mexican camping, so to speak. Comprehensive and well-written, I think it's a better book than the Olivas book. I've perused borrowed copies, but we'll get our own before our next trip. The Church's post updates to the campground information on their web site.
• Baja Camping, by Fred and Gloria Jones, published by renowned outdoor-guide and camping icon Foghorn Press.

I've also found these web sites useful:

• Vagabundos Del Mar, a camping/boating club for Mexico adventurers. Lots of good information on the site, even if you don't join. Membership gets you benefits such as access to advance entry permits, discount insurance programs, and legal services.
• La Conexión Mexicana chapter of Escapees. This organization exists pretty much to hold one rally a year somewhere in Mexico, but there are a few useful articles on the site. If you're an Escapee, joining their annual rally is a good alternative to a commercial caravan, if you're looking to cross the border in a group.
• Mexico with Heart, a website provided by one couple with a story to tell. Lots of useful information and links based on their own travels.
• RVing Mexico on RVersOnline. A mini-series by one man with lots of experience.
• The Mexico and South America forum on RV.Net. Plenty of good information just to browse through, but you can get answers to specific questions from the collected wisdom of the group by registering for free.
• The RV page at OurMexico.com.
• The Banjercito vehicle permit page (in Spanish). This gives definitive information about bringing your vehicles into Mexico (not required in Baja, Sonora, or within ~30km of the border). Click on "Realiza tu trámite AQUI" in the lower right, then select English, to order your permits online.

And, of course, this very blog, from October 7th through November 14th, gives specific information about all the campgrounds and other spots that we used on our trip, mixed in with my somewhat dry and often lengthy narrative.

Back in the US

We left Posada Don Diego at 6:15 yesterday morning, and finally parked for the night close to 10pm here at the Escondido Elks Lodge (map). Possibly our longest day on record.

The drive from Vicenté Guerrero to Ensenada was again scenic, and again involved narrow, twisty mountain roads. The good thing about the curves is that the closing speed of opposing traffic is lower. The bad thing is that the tails of the 18-wheelers tend to be over the center line when they have the outside lane, and one of our rigs lost a mirror. In fact, the trailer clipped the whole front of his coach, knocking off a snap for his windshield cover and putting a scrape in the fiberglass from top to bottom. He was very lucky -- another half an inch, and his windshield would have been smashed. We ended up right behind him going through Ensenada, and had to call out traffic on his left on the CB.

Speaking of Ensenada, which turns out to be a large and busy city, it was packed to the gills with Baja 1000 participant and support vehicles, and more were rolling in as we left. I'm sorry we did not get to stop and sample any of the town.

After Ensenada we turned off Mexico 1, which continues north to Tijuana, onto Mexico 3 towards Tecaté. About 20 miles up 3, we broke from the pack to fuel up, and I filled Odyssey's tank at Mexico prices of about $1.84 a gallon, taking on 740 liters. We caught back up to the caravan at their lunch stop a few miles up the road, on a dirt pull-off in front of one of the many wineries in this area. Sorry, no time for a winery tour!

Climbing a mountain grade another dozen miles up the road, half the caravan came to a sudden stop. One of the fifth-wheels had run his diesel out of fuel, and was dead on the road. He had another full tank of fuel, but failed to switch tanks before the engine quit, and his engine lost prime. Chaos soon followed.

With no place to pull over and stop, the wagonmaster continued on with any rigs who could follow, and the instructions were for all rigs to pass the stuck fiver, with the tailgunner remaining behind to handle the problem. This being Mexico, however, traffic behind the caravan was already moving around us, including 18-wheelers. On top of that, oncoming traffic was continuing down the hill, and there was a blind corner ahead of the stuck rig. We were only three or four rigs from the back end, and I finally put Odyssey across both lanes of the road, effectively blocking the bozos trying to pass the whole caravan until all our rigs could pass the stuck unit. I had to move back into the right lane for one or two downhill cars, but this gambit was effective in getting everyone back on the road. The tailgunner and I pulled over onto a dirt turnout a quarter mile downhill of the fiver, and one of the other rigs stopped just beyond him uphill with a gallon can of diesel.

I set out flares as I made my way uphill to the stuck rig. With the tailgunner directing traffic around us, the guy with the extra diesel and I poked around under the hood of the big Ford until we figured out where the fuel filter was. Oops -- that's the oil filter, unless his fuel has turned to black goo. The fuel filter is the smaller one next to it (go figure), both of them drop-in cartridge type. By standing on the tow eyes protruding from the bumper, I was able to reach down and get the fuel filter open -- I could hardly believe how tiny it was. I managed to fill the housing up with diesel, although it only took about a pint. I think I spilled at least that much all over the manifold as well. I threaded the cheesy plastic top back onto the the housing as tight as I dare, and we gave it a shot. It took a bit of cranking to get fuel pressure out to the injectors, but she finally lit off. A few minutes later, all four of us were back under way, perhaps ten miles behind the rest of the group.

By 2:30 or so, we were all in Tecaté, staged in a parking lot for a public ball field (map). We had to turn our tourist visas in and get our passports stamped at Mexican immigration, but there is no place to park rigs there. So the wagonmaster and tailgunner shuttled us up in groups to the immigration office to complete the task. So far so good, except the tailgunner was pulled over by the local constabulary on his first trip, necessitating a trip to the police station, and an appearance in front of the judge on a series of trumped-up charges. I think the cop just wanted a mordida up front, which would have been perhaps $50, but Larry only ended up paying $60 for his fine anyway. It did, however, cost us all time.

It was 4pm by the time we had our passports stamped, and we were lined up at the border by 4:30 or so. Night fell before we made it to US immigration -- the line, even here at Tecaté, was a good two hours. After jigging and jogging through the maze that is the US border station (and I think I heard that at least one of our rigs hit one of the concrete bollards while doing so), we had a cursory inspection and were waved through.

We are on a tight schedule to make it to San Jose, so we decided to press on, west on 94 all the way to I-15. I'm sorry we were not able to traverse this stretch in the daytime, as I'm sure it is scenic. We stopped at Olive Garden in Poway for dinner, craving a nice green salad and decidedly un-Mexican food. It is impossible, however, to urban boondock almost anyplace in San Diego county, so we continued here to the Elks, a stand-by that has bailed us out many a time.

I am a bit pressed for time today, but in a day or two I will post here our overall impressions of the tour, and of Mexico and driving therein.