March 30, 2007

Cabo San Lucas, BJ Mex (map)

Tequila Sunrise
This is Janice writing to fulfill Jeff’s promise of a “bonus blog” about what I learned at a tequila factory. Actually, if you’re really interested in the process, view this website: http://www.itequila.org/made.htm. Suffice it to say: I have a new appreciation of tequila. We visited the Los Osuna Reposado (middle grade) factory in La Noria, Mazatlan, which has been in operation since 1876. Gorgeous grounds, long and complicated process involved to produce the tequila, including use of computers to check the grade and quality specs required by the “Tequila Associates Jalisco,” and a fine tasting area with various tricks taught about how to truly enjoy a shot of straight tequila. (Also see a blog done by an earlier visitor which gives a nice synopsis of the factory’s history http://johnsmitchell.blogspot.com/2006/03/los-osuna-tequila-factory.html.)

My favorite surprises were the “asparagus” growing out of the center of the mature plants and the juice bearing “pineapple” weighing over 300 pounds. Needless to say, I made a purchase or two there.

It’s too bad Jeff missed this particular day tour, because it was one of the better ones. On the way to the tequila factory we stopped at a private cemetery of a very wealthy family. The family visits it once a week to bring fresh flowers and tidy it up. Our tour guide explained about the local tradition of the Day of the Dead. This website— http://www.mexconnect.com/mex_/muertos.html closely follows what he told us, except this was interesting: He said the family brings a change of clothes for the deceased, an extra place setting for the meal that will be eaten at the gravesite, and his/her favorite things, e.g., if the person smoked, they set out a lit cigarette in an ash tray.

We also made a stop at La Noria, a small town of 900 with a leather factory where they make beautiful saddles, belts, purses, and huaraches. The town had numerous colorful buildings and a quaint church, and I saw some of the most beautiful children I’ve seen on the trip yet—all presenting the women on the tour with blossoms from Vinca plants or small rosebuds—probably wanting pesos in return, but maybe not. They appeared to be genuinely glad we were visiting their isolated little community. One 10 or 11-year-old boy sporting a backpack—presumably on his way home from school—followed me everywhere. When we settled back into our van he peered through the tinted windows to bid his final good-bye. Very sweet boy with big brown eyes that would melt anyone’s heart.

Today I arose at 5 a.m., awakened by the usual barking dogs and roosters crowing—even though the sun won’t be up for another hour and 15 minutes. I was awakened every other hour all night by the same cacophony of sounds, but I’ve become pretty good at being able to go back to sleep. But since we went to bed around 8:00 last night, I felt it was time to get up and take advantage of having time on the computer for a change.

Poor Jeff, he’s joined the “sickos” on the trip—coming down with hopefully just a bad cold—thus our early to bed last night. (By the way, the fresh fish dinner was superb!) We’ve had 2 or 3 men get Montezuma’s revenge and two women become very ill with a respiratory malady. Fortunately, one of our co-caravaners is a doctor (OB-GYN) so he’s made several trips to the farmacia to help the husbands select drugs for their wives—no prescription needed.
We’ll be leaving at 9:30 this a.m. for Cabo San Lucas—a short 65-mile trip, but one estimated to take 2 hours—not as steep and curvy, but still very narrow lanes and trucks to do battle with. I’m praying Jeff will be up to it so I won’t have to drive. By the way, he has been an awesome driver on this trip. My hat goes off to all of our drivers—a couple of wives on occasion, but no thanks!

[Because the usual blog author has been smitten with a head cold that, in combination with over-the-counter medications has rendered him a dullard, he thanks Janice for her contribution today.]

March 29, 2007

Los Barriles, MX (map)

Doin’ it in the dirt…

The day began normally enough, with a sunrise walk on the beach. Soon thereafter, things changed radically as about 23 geezers spent a half-day 4- wheeling on ATVs. The highlight of the day was a trip up an arroyo where a meager river was trickling through the sandy bottom. We enjoyed ourselves immensely, turning back the chronological clock and just acting crazy.


I managed to get thrown off of my ATV while performing a high speed donut maneuver. I went one way and the ATV went another and nearly rolled over. Janice was in close proximity and shared in the experience as my life passed before my eyes. Shoulder is sore, but I am fortunate that they didn’t have to haul me out of there on a donkey. It was a minor miracle that none of us sustained any serious injuries, as we were all cavorting at top speed.

For serious amusement, click on this link.


Be patient—it takes a few seconds to load.

Upon return to camp, I took a couple of benadryl for a runny nose that was pouring like a faucet. The result is a slight pharmaceutical buzz. Glad we aren’t driving today.

Tonight’s activities include a fish dinner at a local bistro. Our fishermen got lucky again yesterday (54 yellow-tail tuna and one dorado), so the restaurant will be preparing it for us. (Yum, yum, and how about a margarita for this shoulder?) Tomorrow we head for Cabo San Lucas.

March 28, 2007

Los Barriles, MX (map)

Driving Baja

Leaving our beachfront hacienda at Tecote Beach yesterday, in a relatively short (65 miles) drive, we earned our merit badge for Baja driving. It took us nearly three hours, as we crawled along twisting mountain roads, slowing further when the call of “semi coming” was radioed over the CB. Work crews labored in many places to repair damage from last fall’s hurricane.

One of the Mexican driving ‘customs’ is to signal cars behind you if it is safe for passing. This is done by putting on the left turn signal. It doesn’t matter whether it is on a solid line, or a no passing zone, passing is a sport in Mexico…and a dangerous one. I suspect that passing fatalities account for the majority of roadside ‘shrines.’ As we turned into Los Barriles ("the barrels") off the main highway, I, of course signaled for a left turn. As I began to turn, I wondered whether I had just signaled a Mexican behind me to pass, in which case he would plow into me as I was turning. How do they know what you mean?? A Mexican mystery.

Los Barriles is a hodge podge resort town along the coast, made up of hotels, real estate offices , a couple of RV parks, residences (some quite nice), markets and restaurants. Paved roads are scarce. The population probably does not exceed 5000. Many are English-speaking, either snowbirds or transplants from the US or Canada. After enjoying a nice sunrise walk along the beach this a.m., followed by bacon and pancakes, we visited the nearby coffee peddler for our first hazelnut lattes in Mexico. Next time I must remember to tell them NOT to use the hazelnut syrup sweetened with Splenda. It has a la turista effect, if you know what I mean.

This park (East Cape RV Park) is pretty nice. Even has a pool and hot tub; the latter facility was quite crowded by some of our group last night. About 6 of us decided that today would include some snorkeling. Tomorrow it will be geezers on 4-wheelers, which should be quite interesting.

March 27, 2007

Tecolate Beach, MX

Batteries are Charged

The last couple days at Tecolate Beach have been invigorating. We have been enjoying our ‘beachfront property.’ Even did some snorkeling. A good variety of fishes.

Quite interesting was Sunday afternoon (3/25) after we arrived. The initial view down the beach was semi-pristine. A couple miles of deserted beach. The crowd started arriving about 2 pm (picture). By 5 pm it was crawling with people and cars by the hundreds. Again we noticed the importance of the Sunday afternoon family gatherings to the Mexican people, not to mention the young persons who just want to swill a few cervezas. These new neighbors of ours parked their cars in between our rigs and partied in front and around us, playing Mexican music on boom boxes and car stereos well into the evening. The group closest to us did not depart until after 10.

In the morning, the initial view was saddening: Beer cans/paper plates all along the beach.
At 7:30 a crew of municipal employees (or work furlough prisoners) swept down the beach and picked up all the trash. Our front yard was clean.

The continuing saga of the declining batteries reached a decision point yesterday. The refrigerator was off most of the night, and we had to fire up the generator early to get it going again. My ice cubes were melting!! At the suggestion of one of the leaders, I did an internet search and found a battery dealer in La Paz, a mere 10+ miles away. We took a trip into town and purchased two 6-volt golf-cart batteries, a system that the ‘pros’ on this tour claim is superior to the standard two 12-volt battery arrangement. For the price of $100 each, we are back in business. We kept the ‘old’ batteries in order to negotiate some compensation from Winnebago. Each battery had a dead cell.


This morning we were on dawn patrol to observe the sunrise and get first pick of sea-shells that had washed up during the night.

Although we wish we could stay here for a few more days, we will be departing today for Los Barriles, about 65 miles south, on our way to Cabo San Lucas. At the group meeting last night we were cautioned about the semi-trucks that fly around the corners of the 2-lane highways. We will ‘have our ears on’ to listen for CB warnings of danger approaching.

March 25, 2007

Tecolate Beach, MX
(be sure to view the map)

Life’s a beach…

Our arrival at the ferry dock yesterday was followed up with a 6 pm pot-luck dinner. There was enough food for about 3 more such dinners. The main course was batter-fried filets—fish that some of the group caught on Thursday. No margaritas this night because the drivers would later have to drive their rigs onto the ferry, doing a zig-zag course up the ramp to prevent rig damage. A few of the longest 5th wheels suffered rear- end ‘owees’ nevertheless.

Prior to boarding, we watched the ferry unload dozens of semis, buses, trucks, cars—a roar of activity at 10 pm. It was proof again that the Mexican economy is booming. Couldn’t believe the ferry could hold such a load. It swallowed up our group easily, less than 18 inches between us on the sides.

Once on board, we were whisked to our ‘staterooms,’ which consisted of 2 single beds and a combo bathroom shower. ‘Spartan quarters’.

We went down to the dining room, where we were serenaded by a mariachi band. Another giant food spread—but Janice and I exercised some self-restraint, lest our girths continue to expand. We did accept a complimentary margarita, which was the perfect sleep inducer—not that such was necessary. We were exhausted. We slept soundly on mattresses 2 inches thick.

Our rig was the last one off in the morning, and we headed to Tecolate Beach, about 8 miles distant. For the past 18 months, since we signed up for this trip, I had a vision of camping on the beach in an uncrowded setting. After arriving at the beach we were finally sent up the beach from the main group with 3 other rigs. My vision was fulfilled, and then some. As I sit here now, I am looking out the front window at the white beach in front of us, bordering an azure blue sea. A few sailboats and a yacht are offshore.

We will be here for 2 nights. Should I take a siesta, walk on the beach or don the snorkel gear? Tough decisions. Today, life’s a beach.

Dos margaritas, por favor.....

March 23-24, 2007

Mazatlan to Topolobampo, MX (on the ferry dock) (click on map-good view!)

Catching up



March 23
Touring the Countryside

This was a bus trip tour that should have been “optional.”

Beginning at 9 am, we climbed aboard the bus and headed south—or was it east. You know it’s going to be a snoozer when the guide spends the first 20 minutes talking about the government housing you are passing by.

First stop: Manuel the adobe brick-maker. The only surprise here is that we weren’t offered the opportunity to buy a brick. Never know when you might need another wheel chock. Moving down the road, the tile maker was next. Interesting, but not one of those things you really need to know to function in modern society. We now have another trivet—for only 20 pesos. This could show up in YOUR Christmas stocking!

Next, the bakery. Of course we bought a few rolls. Then another ½ hour ride to our lunch destination in Copola, where lead is mined. Just don’t breathe too deeply.

The restaurant was famed (“world famous”) for its banana cream pie, which we passed on, feeling that we would be tempting la turista to strike us down. It was not famed for the view of a brush covered hillside. The village had some cute shops with some nice ceramic pieces, but it was utterly deserted. How do they pay the light bill?

Crawling back aboard the bus, we painfully inched our way back to the park driving through the heart of town. I know that I overuse the phrase, but this trip WAS a long road to a little house.

A great dinner (shrimp coco loco and mango shrimp) at the Mazatlan Inn. Terrible service, but wonderful food with new friends.

Final comments on Mazatlan: A very vibrant area, with tourist opportunities at a reasonable price. Construction—residential and commercial all over. The place is booming, as was Chihuahua. Sure seems like there is plenty of work in Mexico. Drivers are absolutely crazy, disregarding whatever traffic laws exist, passing on the shoulder, over double lines, etc. Contrasting world, with at least 50% of the population living in wooden/tin/adobe shacks along dirt roads. Much of the population uses footpower, pedal power, horsepower or motor bikes for transportation. Car usage is probably the exception in the areas we have seen. Intercity buses are sleek. Intra-city buses are beat up. Graffiti is almost everywhere, and is of very poor quality.



"Hola to Senorita Carly..."


March 24, 2007
Mazatlan to Topolobampo

The long, long road

Up at 6:00, we were ready to go by 7. Finally pulled out of the park and began the return trip up the coast, through Los Mochis to Topolobampo, where we would catch the ferry. Prior itineraries had the trip leaving from Mazatlan, but it was deemed too long a ride (17 hours vs 8), and the ferry was getting a bit creaky. It is now kaput. Instead, we drove back over the most boring road of the trip (280 miles in 8 hours), while pretty much exhausted. Wished we had a final free day in Mazatlan to veg, instead of the banana cream pie tour.

Ahoy there!

All day drive today from Mazatlan to Topolobampo to catch Ferry to LaPaz. Will board ferry at 10 pm and “sail” at midnite, arriving in La Paz at 8 a.m.

March 23, 2007

Mazatlan, con’t

A night at the fiesta

The jitneys picked us up at 6 pm. Janice had purchased a new shirt for me in the afternoon so I would look like a more respectable senor. A mere golf shirt wouldn’t work. The jitneys were basically light duty Nissan pick-up trucks with a canopy and seats in the bed. Soon we were zooming in and out of traffic on the way to our destination, about a mile away.

Upon arrival we were herded like cattle to our seats, which ringed a rectangular stage. Though this was clearly a large restaurant, the motif was that of a cantina. Drinks were free, not a great sacrifice, since it was soon obvious that somebody had watered down the booze in the backroom. There would be no drunks in this crowd, unless somebody snuck a flask in.

We were prepared by our leaders to be ready to rush to the food line. They had even slipped la mordida to our waiter to give us a signal when the serving tables were ready to open. I regretted that I was not wearing my tennis shoes, as this was looking like it might be a real footrace. The signal given, we whirled our chairs about and headed for the feed-bag. It was pretty good fare—beef, chicken, chile relleno (my new favorite), tamales, beans and chips. We hauled it back to our place, fighting through the massive line that had formed behind us. Reaching our seats, we sat in semi-darkness, the Mexican band pounding out the music in the background. Couldn’t see, couldn’t hear. I probed at my plate in front of me, hoping that my fork would snare a morsel of food.

The waiter was bringing cubre libres like a mad-man. I judiciously emptied my glass only to have another appear instantly in its place, as if sprouting from the table. After several trips to the restroom to offload the fluid build-up, I declared, in the words of Roberto Duran, “No mas!”

And speaking of restrooms, this place was doing its part to solve the local unemployment. A gentleman was standing by the paper towel dispenser, and would crank out about a foot of paper towel and hand it to you. He would then look at the nearby little basket on the counter which he had salted with a peso coin. He was standing in the doorway, and the implication was that if you didn’t want to spend the rest of the evening in there, it was time to reach in el pocketo. I flipped a peso coin in and he stepped aside. (One must wonder about the conversation between he and his senorita, when he returns home after work, pushing a wheelbarrow of centavos and pesos: “How was work tonight, dear?” “ Tough one tonight,honey. Had to change the paper towels a couple of times, and, of course, there’s those background noises in the 'juan' I have to deal with….but sweetie, don’t forget to wash these coins before you use them…” )

After about an hour of dancing by patrons on the stage (Macaraena, etc.), it was time for the show. There were a couple of dance acts which were no better than some of the young people we saw perform in cantinas along the way. Oh, and the rope twirler. Vocalists were good, except I didn’t understand a word. The last act was a comedian/musician whose finale consisted of pulling a forty foot cloth strip out of his mouth, the colors changing from white to green to red. All this time he was making contortions as if this was being pulled from way down in his stomach. If the brown strips started coming, I was going to be outta there....muy pronto!

Back in our jitneys, we raced back to our campground condos.

On tap today is a bus tour of the nearby mountains: a brick maker, a bakery and pottery shops. Report to follow.

March 22, 2007

Mazatlan (con't)

Golf at the El Cid

Just returned from a badly needed golf fix at the El Cid course. The former Canadian golf-pro was still suffering from la turista, so he opted to recuperate. He bagged it. I was thus deprived of some badly needed instruction. All in all I played well, despite the fact that we were required to have a caddy (who spoke no English), which was absolutely unnecessary on this course. Simply a way to create more jobs, like pumping gas in Oregon.

Because I just wasted 4+ hours of my life (Janice's description of a round of golf), I am unable to report on today's tourist hot spots. Didn't take the camera with me either, so no new photos. Where's Janice today?? She's on a 4+ hour tour of a Tequila factory and other such local places of cultural edification. Taking photos.

Thus I will use part of today's blog to reflect on the miscellaneous.

I write these blogs so that someday I can sit in the rocking chair and enjoy remembering travels, times, and people when recollections dim. After a blog series has run its course, I copy and paste it and download it as a word document, printing a copy for for the JM Archives. This way I will not lose them when the mother of all maverick 'delete' worms infects the internet.

Blogs prior to this one were a way to provide my late mother with the opportunity to enjoy travel vicariously outside of her confines. Whether it was cell phone calls from the high seas off the Alaska Coast when my sister cruised offshore, or postcards or blogs from me, Mom loved to travel in her mind. On this trip, I often catch myself looking at something and thinking, "Mom would enjoy hearing about this." She would even chuckle at the thought of pig snouts if I wrote about them simply because she enjoyed my writing. She had hoped to live long enough to see me write a book, but even as she passed away at the grand age of 97 this past September, she could not outlive my procrastination.

Blog notices are sent via e-mail to a list of about 50 friends, relatives and travel junkies. It's sometimes difficult trying to imagine what topics would interest such a varied audience, assuming that some of you out there are actually reading this drivel. When I experience such episodes of writer's block, the certain antidote is simply to "write it for Mom," even now. She was a most appreciative audience, no matter what I wrote about. (She had saved every postcard that Janice and I sent her over the last 30+ years.)

Because this is miscellany day, I'll upload a few pics from the past couple weeks to provide a glimpse of what we have enjoyed seeing.









1. Mennonite kids 2. Indian children playing in washwater 3. Mexican kids looking at the 'Stars'



Views from the train





Bonus blog entry coming:


What I learned at the tequila factory—by Janice!

March 21, 2007

Mazatlan, MX (map)

R&R for a Few Days

After a 270-mile drive from Los Mochis, we arrived in Mazatlan yesterday about 3 pm. In many respects, it was like driving down the California central valley, with tomato and corn fields lining the road much of the way. Agave cactus fields became the crop of choice as we neared Mazatlan.

We stopped at 3 or 4 toll booths yesterday, ‘donating’ about $100 to the Mexican government. The highways are in pretty good shape—(again) much better than California’s.

Only one case of la turista among the group, a normally vibrant Canadian gent who is not venturing far from the ‘facilities.’ He stated to me yesterday, “When I break wind I should be wearing Depends.” Nothing is certain when you’ve got la turista. Hope he recovers by Thursday, when we have a golf game scheduled at the local El Cid course. He was once of the Canadian pro tour, so I intend to study his game closely.
Other folks will be going deep sea fishing or going on a tequila factory tour that day.

Our rig is being washed as I write this—for $40. Probably money down the drain, as I expect we will be covered with Mexi-dust again before we cross the border weeks from now. Our laundry is bagged up for the laundry lady. You pay by the kilo and your clothes are returned the next day. Unknown whether my underwear will be ironed.

We are crammed into pretty tight quarters here at La Posta RV Park, about a block from the beach. Getting here through the maze of streets was an adventure—one that I would not like to do without somebody leading me. The park is closing at the end of the month and will be turned into a Costco store. Sam’s Club is across the street, and we will venture over there to re-supply after our 9 a.m. bus tour is over.

Took a 6:30 a.m. walk along the beachfront, hoping to find a Starbucks for a hazelnut latte, but none were in sight. One of the local hotels has its signage up in anticipation of spring break, offering ‘all you can drink cerveza’, 9 to midnite for $11.00. The kids have started to arrive. Hopefully the young ladies will dress modestly as they cavort about.

Got on the tour bus at 9:00 and saw the sights of Mazatlan, with a stop at a jewelry store (Janice received her birthday present), a restaurant (good chilequiles) and finally a stroll through the market. Amidst cheap T-shirts, sombreros, and related tourist trinkets were slabs of beef, pork parts (don't click on this link if you object to pictures of pig snouts) and chopped chicken, including a stack of claws, presumably for those dabbling in voodoo. Very aromatic. One cautious vendor selling fish skillfully swished a feather duster to keep the flies from landing on the pescado.

Upon returning home, the rig sparkled like new after its washing. It has never been cleaner, including the day we picked it up.

Next adventure was a jaunt to the supermarket. After being thrown out of Sam’s Club, who is no longer allowing one-day passes, we went to a nearby grocery store. The cart groaned under a full load of bottled water. Janice had a challenging moment trying to locate the Baby Wipes, and asked a clerk for assistance. She mumbled something about Baby Wipes, and made a gesture like she was wiping her hands, the intended use for the Baby Wipes. The clerk pointed to her posterior (the clerk’s, not Janice’s) and pointed to the tubes of Preparation H. Something was lost in the translation.

March 19, 2007

Los Mochis RV Park (map)

Getting our land legs back

At 6 am the crew arrived and started the task of breaking us free from our flatcar perches, removing the retaining cables and wheelchocks, that kept us from becoming a part of the Mexican landscape.

After rolling back onto the pavement, we were shepherded to the RV park in caravans of 7 or so. These were narrow pull-throughs with 15 amps of flickering electricity and water that would need a good dose of chlorine, when it trickled out. I paid a couple of kids 50 pesos to wash the Honda, which was ‘dust to dust’, ‘front to back.’ Janice worked hard to bring a semblance of cleanliness to our rolling condo.

This was a day to recover from our train excursion, and adjust to the 95 degree heat that will be our companion for the next 4 weeks.

In the evening we were bussed to a local hotel, where we enjoyed a camarones (shrimp) dinner, the best so far. Janice was served a birthday cake, with the group joining into sing ”Hoppy Birthday.” She’s a geezer now, just like me.

March 17-18

Bhuichivo to Los Mochis

The End of the Line

(No internet hook-up last night because we did not return from dinner until late and I knew that I would have plenty of time this afternoon to jot down a few entries. We are on the final leg of the RR trip, rambling slowly through semi-desert of Sinaloa.)

March 17

Our day started with a sunrise hike, leaving at 5:45. About a dozen of us joined a guide for a mile hike up the hill behind us. It was $10 per person. A bit steep. Good view of the rigs and the town, though.

We finished our trinket shopping. I am convinced that all of this “Mexican handiwork” is being mass-produced in India or China. It’s the same dishes, blankets, etc. at every stop. There just aren’t enough Mexicans to mass produce this stuff. We're buying it, though.

A final barrel taco and chile relleno and we rolled out of the station at noon.
We rocked back and forth. Empty plastic bottles littered the countryside, as they have everywhere in Mexico. They are the national flower of this country. The Sierra Club would be apoplectic at the amount of litter through the countryside.

A donkey hitched to a single-bladed plow stalled patiently in the middle of a half-plowed field, waiting for his master to return from the mid-day meal. He was just standing there, motor in neutral, waiting for the next “gee” or “haw” or the Mexican equivalent.

We passed Indian groups. Many of the young girls, no older than 12, carried babies (their own). Children having children as the saying goes.

What was supposed to be a quick two-hour trip stretched beyond three hours as we waited at sidings for passing passenger trains, and then stopped as a couple of air hoses blew. Don’t want to be without brakes on this trip! After passing through about 20 tunnels we arrived at our destination. A siding in Bhuichivo—an old logging town. (An interesting fact about logging hereabouts—the logs are cut in 8-foot (approx.) lengths so they can be stacked sideways on trucks and RR cars for transportation.)

Hardly settling in, we jumped into a waiting bus for the bus-ride from (or to) hell. This was the classic Mexican driver, careening down a dirt-washboard road, dodging potholes and bumps, as pick-up trucks raced by in the opposite direction with inches to spare. Once again, these buses had no leg room, so my knees banged into the metal seat-back in front continuously for the 20 or so miles to our destination—a mission school in the middle of nowhere.

The mission school (for Indians) was adjacent to our dinner spot for the night. Although I could editorialize a bit about this entire venue, I will merely describe the visit to the mission and dinner as “a long road to a little house.” (What was represented to us in advance as “black sea bass” was poorly disguised tilapia, a fish that I vowed never to eat again 10 years ago, after seeing a truck parked along a filthy canal in Mexicali with a pescado sign—selling tilapia open air in the 100 degree weather. With great imagination bordering on hallucination, I pretended that the pescado before me was in fact sea bass and choked it down.) We would soon jump back in the bus for the return trip, made even more terrifying by the darkness on the thrill ride back to our siding. (There must not be any other restaurants in these parts. I think that this might have been a good time to declare a “fast” night.)

Over the last few days we have noticed that our “house batteries” won’t hold a charge, after being pumped up by the generator. The big negative of this is that our “gas” refrigerator requires a certain minimum voltage to run the control panel. When it falls below a certain level, it shuts off the gas. I was able to purloin some distilled water from a fellow traveler and topped off the batteries, but alas I might have been a bit too late. They may be cooked. Will be watching this closely—there is a Walmart in Mazatlan that may have some RV batteries. We have about 6 more days of dry camping in Baja.

March 18.

Awakened to the sound of a speeding locomotive (ours) passing by about 6 a.m. to hook us up for the next leg. Dog owners bounded out of bed to walk their dogs before the whistle blew at 7, signaling “all aboard.” Firing up the generator for the microwave and coffee pot, we ate on the move as the day unfolded. Going though approximately 50 tunnels during the day, up to a mile in length, we had a renewed appreciation for the amazing engineering feat that this railway is. We looped down canyon walls, crawled through deep cuts, just imagining the amount of labor and skill required.

At one lengthy stop on a siding we fired up the hot water heater and then got in the day’s shower which we had skipped due to our early departure.

The scenery was spectacular as we rode down a river canyon, the vegetation thickening with lush green surrounding us. Occasional villages of a couple of “shack houses” were off to the side. Kids lined the tracks to wave to the rich Americans passing by. We were once again movie stars.

Soaring cliffs and mountains rose above us. We passed a large emerald green reservoir (a big “basin” one of the trackmen advised us). Soon we passed the Chihuahua/Sinaloa border and just that suddenly the green growth gave way to pipe organ cactus, a flattening landscape and the slow crawl through miles of nothingness. Dirt trails are visible to the side of the tracks, and cows laze under scrawny trees, “shooting the bull” together and looking at us warily as we cruised by.

Janice has gone to the back of the rig for a nap, having tired of the current monotony.
Probably about 3 more hours of this until we arrive in Los Mochis, where we will spend a final night on the flatcars until unboarding in the a.m. We will have dropped from 5000 feet to sea level on this ride. Start chilling those margaritas, Los Mochis—we’re on the way.

[Note: Approximately 6 hours after this entry, we pulled into the station at Los Mochis. It was 9:15 pm. For the final 2-1/2 hours, we careened slowly down the track, often at a jogger's pace, peering into the semi-darkness which gave way occasionally to backyard parties lit by single bare bulbs hanging from trees or fenceposts. The wealthy locals had an additional bulb glowing inside. We prayed silently that those manning the various track switches would be alert this evening lest we make an unannounced departure from the tracks.

Upon arriving, the four dogs in the group bounded off the train, shedding 'doggie Depends' and relieving themselves along the tracks. They had been 'holding it' since a single siding stop at 12:30. Carly—enjoy your vacation in Vegas.

By 10 pm we were in bed, being serenaded by a brigade of roosters that surrounded us, as well as yelping dogs sending barrio challenges back and forth across the tracks. A lonely locomotive hummed steadily through the night, waiting for orders that never came. It was still there in the morning, its crew vanished or sleeping below window level, perhaps shambling in the aftermath of Sunday evening's libations.

I was awakened during the night. I sensed that Janice was also awake, and queried, "What time is it?"

"12:40," she replied.

I whispered "Happy birthday dear," and rolled over. After all, it was March 19.

March 16, 2007
Divisadero, MX (map)

We left at 9:00 this a.m., an hour earlier than expected. As a result we are now sitting on the tracks outside of Divisadero waiting for a tour group a day ahead of us to clear the siding. (Apparently, during the tourist season, RV caravans from about 4 different companies go through the area nearly every day.)

It was about a 2-hour trip from Creel. Fairly uneventful. Went through about 6 tunnels. Only about 70 to go. Saw a couple of wrecked train cars which had tumbled off the tracks at some point in the past. Hopefully we won’t be joining them.

The plan today is to have lunch from a street vendor (tempting la turista). Then it’s a tour, winding up at a nice hotel on the canyon rim.
[Break]

Wow! When we finally came to a stop and they broke the train up for the night, we were front row, center in the middle of Divisadero. Enjoyed talking with college students from Iowa and Kentucky who were here on spring break doing serious hiking.

Great afternoon. Bus tour of various vistas along the canyon rim (where the local peddlers sold baskets, beads, etc.—we continued to contribute to the local economy.) Finished at the El Mirador Hotel for happy hour (2 for 1 margaritas, the national drink of Mexico) and a wonderful sunset view of the canyon. Great dinner. ‘Home’ by 7 pm.

Sunrise hike at 5:45 tomorrow!!

March 15, 2007
Creel, MX (map)


On the Rails

Our day began with a bang, or more precisely the sound of a rumbling locomotive passing us by. It was shortly after 4:30 a.m. In a few minutes the process of putting together the train began with a series of clunks and jolts, which continued for about an hour. We fired up the generator to get the heater going and start the coffee pot. At 7 a.m., we were on the move.
I prepared bacon and eggs on the rails like a good Pullman chef, sans white hat.

We viewed the countryside as it semi-crawled by at 10-20 mph.



The views on this leg were interesting and unique, but not spectacular. Flatland orchards soon gave way to more desolate grassfield with a few skinny cattle prowling for food. Unknown where they get water. On turns, our caravan snaked around the bend. Quite a sight to see. We are about a third of the way from the front.

We ventured outside for awhile and stood at the rear of our flatcar, moving about gingerly as the occasional jolts and bumps rolled beneath us.

Some of the views:

A farmer leveling his fresh-plowed field with a large log pulled by 2 well-trained horses.
A woman washing her clothes on a flat rock along a river.
People on horseback, or on foot, headed down well-worn trails going to who knows where.
Towns a mixture of shacks and simple adobe dwellings.
People waving back to us as we passed, especially the kids who gathered along the tracks. We felt like movie stars.
Shanty homes decades old with pointy-roofed plastic outhouses in the front yard.
Tilled fields with no tractors in sight. They will not be planted for another month.

Soon we began to leave the plains and enter pine forests. Pine trees with needles almost a foot long (they are used for basket-making).

About noon, after passing through a couple small towns we pulled onto a siding in the middle of Creel, a tourist mecca for exploring the Copper Canyon.

After a white bread, cheese and baloney sandwich at a local restaurant we hopped on the tour bus for a cruise through the hinterlands. This was a real Mexican bus with leg room designed for those 5’6” or less. At the various stops, local natives peddled their baskets, beads, etc. As we approached one such site, a whirlwind appeared and sucked baskets, blankets, and beads into the air, scattering them over a one block area. No doubt the locals saw this as a visit from el diablo. Being good travelers, we got off the bus and helped gather the goods. No discount offered. Nice gringos, this group.

The final visit was to a Tamahumara Indian enclave in some caves. It really felt like a “tourist trap”—really just a spot to peddle the goods. We bought a basket anyway.

Finally returned to town and did some shopping (found a magnet!) before returning to the rig for a short siesta. There was a margarita hour at 5:30 before the 6:30 dinner. This dinner was apparently a diet plate, as it was slim pickin’s chicken and rice. Good flan for dessert, though. Walked around downtown with some of the group and then back to the rigs.

Sorted photos which have been piling up. Hope to upload a few today when we stop at Divisadero.

March 14, 2007

La Junta, MX (map)

Train Loading Day


It was train-loading day and we were up at the crack of dawn, heading to La Junta.

On the road at 7:30, we humped our way through some pretty heavy road construction, with one to three-foot drop offs—no shoulder. Decided it was no time to doze. Despite the hazardous conditions, Mexican drivers would pass us in no passing zones, darting in between the rigs when encountering head-on traffic. We now know why there are so many roadside shrines for the recently departed. (The belief is that it takes 4 years for the soul to depart the scene. In the meantime the relatives must visit and place flowers, etc.)

After 36 miles, we were at the railroad siding and began to queue up for loading. We were split into 3 sections, and the loading began. Driving right off the ramp onto the first car, I did exactly what my guide told me to do—signaling me with hand gestures. He had done this before. I hadn’t. An inch or so the wrong way and I would tumble off the side. I just quit thinking, turned up the country western music real loud and did exactly what I was told to do.

As the motorhome cleared the ramp between cars, the ramps were moved together slightly for the tow vehicle (CRV). This process was repeated about 7 times until I was at the front of the line. Janice captured the excitement on video. (Pardon the apparent misspelling of "margarita" at the end...it's a local variation made with Agave cactus, hence the extra "A"!!!)

We will spend the night here as the workers secure the rigs to the train with blocks and cables. An engine will hook up to us tomorrow morning and we will be heading down the tracks, ultimately to Los Mochis, our final destination. For the next 5 nights we will be ‘dry camping’ in the rigs en route. (No shore power, no water faucet to connect up to. No dumping the black or grey tanks.) The slides must remain in during this period, as any malfunction would prevent the train from leaving. That’s “roughing it,” RV style.

We will be railroading 2-8 hours each day, stopping at sidings (Creel, Divisadero, Bahuichivo) where we will tour the local vicinity.

This afternoon we will have a loading party at Rosy’s Cantina. There will be mandatory margaritas for those who drove the rigs onto the flat-cars. I’ll be ready.

I will likely be taking a blog break for a day or two to soak up the local culture as we head down the tracks.

[And by the way….regarding those mystery “comments” from “anonymous”. They have been traced to a high school classmate of mine who is now a copper baron in Mexico. He is known in his region as “El Papa Grande” or “The Beeg Daddy”.]

March 13, 2007
Near Cuauhtemoc, MX


We are staying at Loewen's RV Park in the middle of a Mennonite community, still within the state of Chihuahua.

After arriving here this a.m. after a short 1-1/2 hour drive, it has been pretty much non-stop.
A bus picked us up, we went to a farmhouse and had a Mennonite lunch. Great soup, breads, cheese and salami. Next, a visit to a Mennonite Church, saw a movie about the Mennonite migration from Canada in 1922, went to a Mennonite museum, and then back to camp where we rested before a Mennonite dinner.

These are the most wholesome people. All yards, businesses, etc., are organized and super-clean. Not a scrap of paper in view. A tremendous work ethic and kids that are squeaky clean.

My front end noise returned, but it is more of an annoyance than a worry.

Tomorrow is a big day. After a short 37-mile drive, we will start loading the rigs on the railroad flatcars at 9 a.m. Hopefully there will be time to upload some photos.

The power at this park is shaky, so the Surge protector has kicked me off-line a couple times.
I will wait until tomorrow to upload some photos. In the meantime, look at yesterday's post, which has had a few photos added to it.

March 12, 2007

Chihuahua, part deux


The tour bus picked us up at 9 a.m. This was a nice bus, not the stereo-typical Mexican ‘chicken-bus’. Luis, our tour guide, provided commentary as we entered Chihuahua. The city is a mix of the future and the past, with many new factories, ramshackle dwellings and some very nice older residences. We were grateful that we did not have to individually fight our way through the traffic and find any of the tourist vistas.

In the morning we stopped at Pancho Villa’s house, now a museum to the Mexican Revolution. Also visited state capitol buildings, including one with some colorful murals of the history of Chihuahua and Mexico. A stop at a local pottery-maker provided an understanding of the painstaking process to make fine Mexican pottery. Lunch at a downtown Mexiteria (a cafeteria serving Mexican food) provided our first opportunity to risk our palates. Not bad, especially the chile rellenos. The town square, featuring several large statues of chihuahua dogs, was bustling with noon-time activity.

By 2 pm we were back in camp for a siesta, though mine was delayed as I worked on a popping noise in our front end, likely caused by a loose bolt holding the springs. We’ll find out next time on the road (Tuesday).

After a 5 pm meeting, we reboarded the bus and headed back to Chihuahua, where we dined at a nice hotel/restaurant. I would not wager a large amount of money on what the meat on my plate was. Represented as beef, it was a thin cut covered with gravy. My taste buds first registered ‘liver’, but it wasn’t bad, whatever it was. Perhaps the folks in the kitchen were having the last laugh on the gringos??

Following dinner, we were entertained by a series of young dancers doing traditional dances. They were great.

With two weak margaritas under my belt (these were served to everyone) I welcomed the opportunity to crawl back on the bus and head back to camp. The couple who had been sent back to the US for repairs had arrived in camp while we were gone, and will be with us for the rest of the trip.

We are now the wi-fi provider for the group, as many have piggy-backed on our wireless router. I am hopeful that they will keep ‘traffic’ to a minimum so my monthly rate doesn’t get jacked up into the commercial range.

Heading out at 9 a.m. Tuesday.

March 11, 2007

Outside Chihuahua, MX
Across the Border

A long day crossing the border and driving about 270 miles. We are at the Del Fresno Park (map). Landscaping is primarily rocks and gravel and some 15-foot trees. We were lucky to get a 30-amp hook-up. Others may have 15 amps or less.

An exceptionally well organized day, we crossed the border

Watch the Video and went through two government inspection stations with only two rigs receiving a cursory glance. ( “I think they just wanted to check out our floorplan," said one rig owner.)

The scenery was less than spectacular, with miles of sagebrush and dirt, with brown non-descript mountains hovering in the distance. My apologies to Mexico for recently slandering their highways. They are better than California’s….so far. Don’t enjoy paying the tolls (almost $45.00 today), but there weren’t but a couple of potholes. The road shoulders were non-existent, often dropping up to a foot at the edge of the pavement, but if you stayed on the road, it was pretty smooth. Of interest along the road were numerous shrines for apparent ‘road-kill’ victims. These ranged from simple crosses to cinder block structures the size of a small house.

One couple was forced to turn back to the US after developing brake trouble in their trailer. Assuming a quick fix, they may be able to join us in a couple days.

Wagon-masters kept the speed at 50-55 max which made for a pretty relaxing drive. It’s great when all you have to do is follow the rig ahead of you, and they are following the leaders, who actually knows exactly where they are going, unlike some of our circuitous excursions going solo.
It’s really amazing the number of full-timers out there who have just “hit the road” for years. One of the lures, I believe, are the great people on the road and the camaraderie that is near instantaneous. Much different than the drive-in-the-garage-close-the-garage-door suburban life or the regimented life of the workplace. These folks know what freedom is.

Drove through Chihuahua, which is a thriving city (a minus 2% unemployment rate, meaning that there are more jobs than workers), with a couple of familiar factories (eg. Volvo, Black and Decker). On the road in, many families were having Sunday afternoon picnics along the road—beside dry creek beds and on wide spots in the road. Enjoyed waving to as many as possible, hoping that they would not regard us all as a bunch of spoiled rich folk. They eagerly returned our waves.

Tomorrow is a bus tour of Chihuahua.

(For those of you wondering about Carly's good fortune in Las Vegas, you can look at this link to her outing yesterday, provided to us by our sources in that city.)

March 10,2007

Las Cruces, NM

Counting Down for Blast-Off

Gas 2.49.9 (rip-off....pulled in for the 2.39.9 only to find it was 86 octane—tractor gas)

Enjoyed an anniversary dinner last night at the Double Eagle, which I would liken to the Firehouse in Old Sacramento. This, too was a historic structure—the largest house in Las Cruces until the 1990s. Fabulous aged beef (deliberately). Janice proclaimed her filet mignon the best restaurant beef ever. It was a bit on the pricey side, but we rationalized that it was OK to celebrate our 34 years together. The one person not celebrating was our waitress, a 60-ish fraulien-type whose day job may well have been at a local penal institution. She managed to serve us in a stiff-necked manner (except when she disappeared for about 25 minutes) resisting even the hint of a smile or a congratulatory word to us. She was obviously in the midst of a very bad day.

A quiet evening tonight before a 257-mile border-crossing drive tomorrow. Orientation meeting this afternoon. A very well-run, well-led and organized start. We have met about 60% of our fellow travelers and it is a pretty congenial group from all over the country, plus one Canadian couple. A mixture of motorhomes and 5th wheels.

Today was spent doing last minute shopping, including a major Walmart stop. (Sorry, Karl.) Las Cruces is a booming town in the shadow of the Organ Mountains.

Learned tonight that we may not be able to get DirectTV in Mexico with the satellite dish. Spent a long time discussing this with the “helpdesk” at DirectTV, which was unable to provide a confident answer. They did assure that I would not be billed if there was a problem. This probably is a good thing, as we will have little time for TV, and other than 24 and Prison Break, who cares?
Sorry, no pics today, but get ready for some Academy Award winners in the next week. Guaranteed to thrill and titillate.

Our current location here (Datastorm 4243)

Don't forget to change your clocks....

March 9,2007

Las Cruces, NM

Anniversary

Edition

Thirty-four years ago this date, an intimate group of 10 or so gathered in the living room of Judge Frederick ("Fritz") Van Sicklen in Alameda, CA. Vows were exchanged, the Judge pronounced us duly married and Janice and I began our marital journey. I am grateful for her patience, her love, and her companionship. I shudder to think how my life might have turned out without that 'mid-course correction'.

"The groom, resplendent in sideburns and temporarily adorned with hair on the top of his head, wore a polyester sports coat. He sported Coke-bottle glasses..."

"The bride was simply stunning, wearing a short skirt that displayed exceptional legs...."

Going to dinner tonight!

More tomorrow.