Chapter 34 – Zacatecas, Mexico
February 13 to March 2, 1999
2/13/99 We entered Mexico this morning, well prepared by several days of reading and coaching from the experienced members of Escapees Chapter 8, "The Mexican Connection". The border crossing at Laredo, TX was uneventful, if frustrating. Actually, the border crossing itself is almost always uneventful, since Mexico has a "free zone" along the border. Within this zone, Americans need no paperwork other than proof of citizenship, and Mexican insurance if driving. Inspection of the truck and trailer was perfunctory – they opened a few cabinets, asked a few routine questions.
The real "fun" starts at the Aduana (customs and immigration) office where we obtain papers for travel beyond the free zone. We had been there several days ago to get our tourist visas and temporary vehicle import permit for the truck (good for six months). All we needed today was the import permit for the trailer. But the lines were long and when I finally got to the window, the clerk had obviously never filled out the paperwork for a "casa rodante" (house trailer) before, and spoke almost no English. Mexican procedures are not famous for efficiency. He filled out a very long form, copying almost every piece of data from my trailer title, in laborious longhand. He didn't know what to enter on many lines and kept disappearing into the back office to get help. When it was finally completed, he sent me over to stand in another line to get a copy of the form for him (he kept my pile of documents, closed the window, and disappeared while I was gone). I got the copy, returned, and stood around waiting for him to reappear. After a few minutes, he came back, stamped and signed both copies, obtained my signature on both, gave me one, and we were finished. It took 90 minutes!. When we were here the first time, they would not issue the permit for the trailer because it was not physically here where they could inspect it. This time, they didn't ask to see it and never even asked if it was here!
We headed south, joined highway 85, and drove uneventfully to the end of the free zone (about another six miles), where we were waved into a parking space at the inspection station and waited again. After being ignored for a while, I finally had to walk over to a group of customs inspectors who were standing around doing nothing, and ask, mostly with gestures, for one to come inspect us. Again, the inspection (of papers and trailer interior) was polite and perfunctory.
The first 20 miles or so of Highway 85 was rather poor, with narrow lanes, rough pavement and the gravel shoulders worn away and rutted – sometimes with a 1-foot drop-off right at the edge of the pavement. The road improved as we got further from the city. We branched off onto the cuota (toll) road, roughly paralleling the libre (free) road, and the road became much better – two reasonably smooth lanes plus a paved shoulder, limited access. The terrain is desert with sparse grass and bushes, with large expanses of prickly pear where it had been overgrazed, initially very much like the Texas country we had just left. Gradually, as we began to climb toward the first mountain range, the grass became denser and the cattle more frequent. Traffic on the toll road was very light, since the parade of heavy trucks stays on the free road.
The other 60 RV's were spread out thinly – deliberately spaced over a three-hour period so as not to crowd the road nor overstress the customs people. We had not arranged to travel with any particular individuals, and as we left customs, we were by ourselves.
Map'n'Go has quite good coverage of the major roads in Mexico (but few of the small roads and no city detail at all). We also had been given a set of detailed route directions, and a list of translations of road signs, so the navigation was easy. At the tollbooth, half way to Monterrey, we caught up with two other RV's who were traveling together and had stopped for lunch. We asked to join their group, and simply followed them the rest of the way, relaxed in the knowledge that Don and Kay Damkaer, in front, were very experienced Mexican travelers and had driven this route before. We were in frequent contact via CB radio, so we always had plenty of warning of lane changes or turns. Over the CB, Kay occasionally acted as tour guide, pointing out interesting things along the way.
The Mexican roads have an incredible amount of trash along the roadside – beer cans, plastic bags, etc. The bushes out in the desert often look like they are in bloom, until a closer look shows that the "blooms" are actually bits and pieces of multicolored plastic, caught in the thorns.
We avoided Monterrey on a bypass route. Climbing through a low mountain pass between Monterrey and Saltillo was a bit uncomfortable, with very heavy truck traffic, a truck accident blocking a lane at one point, road construction creating a couple of small detours, and some very slow trucks which were difficult to pass in the heavy traffic. Mexican trucks apparently have less powerful (or perhaps less well maintained) engines than typical American trucks, and were grinding up some of the grades at a snail's pace.
Navigation got considerably more difficult as we came into Saltillo, with heavy traffic, crowded streets, and landmarks and street signs that were not always easy to pick out of the cluttered scene. We could have done it by ourselves, with some risk of missing a turn and having to figure out how to turn around in the heavy traffic and narrow streets. Following an experienced guide greatly reduced the probability of a missed turn and we were relatively relaxed through it all.
We arrived at the fairgrounds, east of Saltillo, a little after 4 p.m. and were met by a busy and well organized parking committee who had arrived the day before to plan the parking of the 60 rigs. The fairground is huge, and absorbed all of us with plenty of room left over. It is a fairly typical fairground – scattered ramshackle buildings, one huge modern arena, and many acres of gravel with scattered weeds, junk, and broken glass.
The electrical wiring in this place is incredibly primitive, with bare wires hanging here and there, open junction boxes with loose wires hanging out, etc. We hadn't planned on having any electricity available, and only a few people with special needs are actually trying to use it. They reported 132 to 140 volts on various outlets in the main area. Many of the group have generators and use them frequently. We'll get along nicely on our batteries and solar panels.
During our first evening, we heard with considerable disappointment that two of the group were turned back at the border and will not be joining us. These two rigs were large fifth-wheel trailers, towed by Freightliner medium-duty trucks. They went to three different border crossings, and were turned away at each one. The Mexican customs people cannot conceive of such a truck being used by an individual for recreational purposes, and their rules prohibit their entry except as commercial vehicles (which apparently is not practical – someone had investigated that possibility earlier.) Apparently, interpreted literally, their rules do not allow any truck over 10,000 pounds to enter as a tourist vehicle. The strange part is that two other nearly identical vehicles on our group had been admitted fairly routinely, earlier in the week.
There was one traffic accident in our group, coming into Saltillo. An RV missed one of the last turns, and scraped an auto while making a U-turn further down the highway. This was so close to our destination that a parking committee member was standing on this corner with a CB, spoke to the navigator as she and her husband went by, and was coaching her about where to turn back. This communications allowed a Spanish-speaking club officer to be on the scene quickly. Apparently, the damage was minor. The RV driver paid the auto driver some money for the damage, the club official explained to the police how many rich Americans were in this group, here to spend money, and how important the tourist industry was to Zacatecas (not really true – this town has few foreign tourists and is rich enough not to need them). I heard second hand that a gift was also passed to the police as well. After that, everyone drove away relatively happy. What a strange country.
2/15 Our three days in Saltillo have been busy with sightseeing. Some of our time was spent just walking the streets in the old Spanish Colonial central area, sticking our heads into shops and churches, craning our necks to see through openings in the walls that line the sidewalks to glimpse real patios, enclosed on all four sides with a fountain in the middle area. Some places were freshly painted and sumptuously landscaped, some were bare and disintegrating from a century of neglect.
The streets are crowded with cars – most appearing to be castoffs from the U.S., battered, paint worn through, sounding rough, belching oil fumes, but busily going somewhere. There are also a great many busses – also mostly old and battered - and most of the busses are full to overflowing, so I suspect a fairly small percentage of the population owns automobiles.
The sidewalks are also crowded in the business and shopping areas. There were quite a few Mexican tourists, looking at the same things as us (and looking at us too – Americans are not real common here.)
The middle class is still rather small, judging from the homes we saw. There are square miles of crumbling brick and cement shacks, and an occasional very luxurious home. We suspect that some of the blank stucco facades we walked past actually did have middle-class homes and apartments behind them. These were the ones that had been repaired and painted in recent history.
Saltillo is a center of tile manufacture. Many of the sidewalks were paved with attractive decorated tile, of various ages, some ancient. Many of the streets in the central area are stone – not cobbles, but rough-cut flat slabs neatly fitted together and in good repair.
Driving our big truck in the city has turned out to be surprisingly easy, even on the narrow residential streets. Most of the narrow streets are one-way (although few one-way signs are posted except at major intersections, so it takes a bit of guesswork to avoid going the wrong way). The drivers are relatively polite, and speeds are quite moderate – slower than American cities. Many intersections, even quite small ones on side streets, have traffic cops directing traffic (giving directions completely at variance with the existing stop signs and traffic lights.
We're picking up lots of Spanish nouns, and doing quite well with identifying stores and tourist attractions and reading road signs (the one saying "don't leave rocks on the pavement" still hasn't been explained). Grammar is still a mystery. I've got a computer Spanish Language program, but haven't gotten very far with it yet.
A few specific tourist destinations:
Catedral de Santiago de Saltillo: A large and incredibly ugly structure, built during the period from 1745 – 1780. The central part of the façade is "Churrigueresque" (ultra-baroque) architecture – covered with elaborate limestone carvings of all sorts of patterns, with no apparent overall plan. The interior is decaying limestone, some of it painted. Many huge oil paintings of biblical scenes were hung on the walls. I don't know anything about the art of this period, but these examples seemed undistinguished. The main doors are impressive - large, carved from cedar, mahogany and pine, with carved images of St. Peter and St. Paul. There are three ornate altars inside the church, in three different styles – neoclassical, Gothic, and Greco Roman.
Mercado Juarez: A traditional, colorful, Mexican market. This one is mostly indoors, filling two floors of a huge building.
Serape Factory: A huge collection of locally made serapes and other woven fabric items. We were impressed with the designs, and with the incredibly rich intense colors of some of the yarns. We were particular interested to see wool being dyed in the courtyard behind the building – an old man was tending a large cauldron of dark steaming goop, over a roaring fire. He periodically stirred it and pushed gobs of wool down under the fluid. The strong odor of the dye occasionally wafted back to us. Huge hanks of intense blue wool were hanging to dry. This place also has a selection of other crafts – silver, wood, and ceramic, all appearing to be local. The prices of everything seemed quite low. We had trouble believing the pricetags on a tray of lovely handcrafted silver earrings, some quite large with inlays of mother of pearl. The price averaged $2.00/pair.
La Canasta Restaurant: This has to be the best Mexican restaurant we ever eaten in (which isn't saying much, of course – it's the only upscale restaurant we've been in since we've entered Mexico, although we've tried several in the U.S. over the years). The food was wonderful. The service was impeccable, in spite of the language difficulty (and the problems of serving 23 people who all arrived at once without reservations). The menu was large and varied, and we regret not having time to go back and try some of the other items. We each had an appetizer and a main course – both delicious and mine too large to finish. We had a pleasant Mexican Zinfandel, from the Pedro Domeq estates in Baja. The whole thing, including tip, came to 500 pesos (about $50 U.S.).
Bird Museum: A huge collection of stuffed birds, creatively posed in natural settings, filling an old and nicely restored building which was originally a convent. The taxidermy is the life work of one very talented man, who was "discovered" late in life. The museum is run by the state government.
Wal-Mart: Not exactly a typical tourist destination, but a fascinating place to walk through. The contrast of new and old is amazing. Old men stand in the parking lot, futilely trying to direct traffic, collecting shopping carts, and collecting tips for their services. Young children in their Sunday-go-to-church clothes are bagging groceries at the checkout counter, and collecting tips. The grocery area was huge with wide aisles, giving a spacious feeling. Except for coffee, most of the groceries I looked at were substantially cheaper than in the U.S. (skinned, boneless, chicken breasts for about $2.00/lb).
2/16 On to Zacatecas, about 300 miles south of the border. We got under way at 8:30 a.m., fairly early by our standards. But we were next to last to leave, with the last one being the volunteer "tailgunner" who was expected to remain last for the entire trip, to help with any problems, and was patiently waiting for us.
The trip was mostly uneventful. We travel a little faster than average for this group, don't stop very often, and after a couple of hours of driving, found ourselves in the middle of the pack. The road was nearly all two-lane, narrow, with little or no shoulder. There was often a fairly steep downslope just beyond the pavement. Helen, in the navigator's seat, was getting quite uncomfortable watching our tires track along, typically a foot from the drop. The risk was highlighted when we passed a truck, upside down at the bottom of the embankment, with the Mexican driver sitting forlornly beside the truck waiting for help.
There was one real "event". On one of these long narrow stretches of road, we saw a pickup truck approaching us with a strange looking load. It was not until it was quite close that we realized that the load was several feet wider than the truck – an inverted pyramid of corn shocks, each layer extending a little wider than the one below it, until at the top it extended far out into our lane. I swerved out as far as I dared without going down the embankment, and somehow cleared without a scratch. Part of the reason is that our rig isn't very tall and we actually went *under* part of his load. That night, we heard that at least one other RV in our group, and also a big semitrailer, had been somewhat damaged – scrapes all along the side.
Coming into Zacatecas, we squeezed around a big truck that was parked in the right lane, with its huge load steel pipe leaning far over the side, threatening to tip the semi-trailer over and spill the pipe into the road at any moment.
2/17 The first bus tour of the city was mildly interesting. Our specially-arranged "English speaking" guide actually spoke very slow broken English, so we didn't learn a whole lot. But just driving the streets in and around the city was very interesting. The city appears much more affluent than Saltillo, with more of the old buildings being neatly restored. Even out in the country in the State of Zacatecas we noticed that the general level of affluence was higher, with better quality homes and less trash.
One tour stop was at Mina El Eden an old gold and silver mine, now closed and used only for tourists. It had been mined by the indigenous peoples in pre-Columbian times, and then mined by the Spanish on a much larger scale, with the indigenous peoples as slave labor, beginning in the early 1500's. By the time it closed in 1960, the nearly vertical vein of ore had been mined down to well over 1000 feet deep, following it down from the surface. We walked along a catwalk at the 1000-foot level, and could look down a long ways further (thanks to strategically placed lighting.) There are still several active silver mines in the area, and this remains an important part of the city's economy.
Another stop was at La Bufa, a steep hill on one side of the city and also one terminal of a cable car which runs across the center of the city to another high hill. The view of the old center city is spectacular.
The hills around the city have many dead trees. These are mostly Eucalyptus, which appeared to have been planted in rows, and they are re-sprouting vigorously from the base. We were told that the winter before last had a hard freeze and 10 inches of snow, killing a great many plants, including most of the prickly pear cactus (which is also recovering rapidly.)
2/18 Dave's touring has been slowed by a bad cold. Helen went to town on a public bus (with Tanya, a Russian lady in our group who has some Spanish and several other languages). Bus fare into town is 2 pesos ($.20). The distance is around 10 miles from our campsite to the center of Zacatecas. Dave stayed at the trailer, puttering and sleeping a lot.
One evening a large troupe of college students performed traditional Mexican Dances for us. Their colorful elaborate costumes (different for each dance), engaging enthusiasm, flawless flashy footwork and the contagious music of the band were enchanting. Other entertainment was a skilled singer of ancient haunting indigenous ballads and a few modern compositions, accompanied by one rich sounding 12 string guitar.
2/19 Another bus tour today. Three stops:
Central Platero silversmith school and museum. This school has been established in the last decade to try to re-establish traditional Mexican silversmithing art and craft in the Zacatecas area. One motivation is to add value to Zacatecas silver by exporting finished products instead of bulk metal. We watched artisans performing the various steps of the lost wax silver casting process. We also watched silver discs being spun into deep pitchers on a lathe. Some of the graduates of the school maintain retail shops at the school, while earning money to establish their own independent shops. Prices are surprisingly low.
The Ex-Convento de Guadalupe was founded in 1707. It is huge rambling structure which has been restored as a museum, with an extensive collection of religious paintings An attached cathedral and large chapel are in process of restoration. The chapel is nearly finished and will be spectacular. Under a central patio, a "modern" cistern and water filtration system was build, over a century ago. We walked down a flight of stairs to see the large room full of water and a thick layer of sand used to filter the water as it entered the convent.
Rafael Coronel Museo is housed in the restored ruins of Antiquo Templo y Convento de San Franscisco. "Restored" is a relative term. Most of this complex is still roofless ruins. Occasional sections which still have a roof are scattered around the ruins, loosely connected, and hold the collections. The major exhibit consists of 2500 masks from many of the indigenous Mexican cultures, originally from the private collection of painter Rafael Coronel. Many of our group were fascinated by the masks. I was much more interested in these ancient buildings.
Between museums, we had lunch in a small gordita shop. This was our first exposure to gorditas- in fact we'd never heard of them north of the border, although they seem ubiquitous in this area. A thicker-than-usual tortilla, probably with a little leavening, is fried and then peeled open along one side, like pita bread. It is stuffed with any of a wide variety of traditional and not-so-traditional fillings – the place we ate listed a dozen or so varieties. Lunch cost $1.80 total for the two of us – a gordita for each of us, a bread pudding for Helen, a can of soda for Dave.
2/20 The group caravanned in a long procession of cars and trucks, about 35 miles to La Quemada Ruins. This is one of the northernmost of the early Meso-American ruins. It was built in several stages during the period from 350 to 1000 A.D. It is huge, and only a small portion has been excavated and studied. A small museum houses the relatively few interesting artifacts that have been excavated. The ruins extend up a hill, with the earliest civilization at the lowest level. Several small pyramids and other structures probably had religious purposes Other structures appear to be extensive housing. A ball field has been excavated and restored. Little is known about these peoples, and there appeared to be little or no active archaeology underway here. We spent nearly the entire day clambering up through the various levels of these fascinating structures. From the topmost level, we had a panoramic view across the broad valley, much of it being farmed, to the high mountains beyond.
On the way home, we detoured to the town of Jerez. It is divided into a relatively modern "new town", which is mostly commercial, and the "old town", built sometime before 1565, which must look much as it did hundreds of years ago. The central area, around the town square, was difficult to navigate because several of the streets were torn up and being paved. They were being paved traditionally, with hand labor and square-cut stones, so the result will still look old. We walked through one large beautiful cathedral, then discovered another a few blocks away. This one was just about to celebrate a wedding. The entire place was decorated with huge vases of flowers. Townspeople were arriving from all directions, all in their fancy clothing, and the cathedral was beginning to fill up. In an adjacent alley, a large formally dressed band was tuning up. We were tempted to stay for the wedding, but weren't properly dressed.
A few blocks further, on the other side of the town square, we found the old (late 1800's) theater. It was locked up tight, but Tanya, our Russian friend, wandered into a narrow interior courtyard behind the theater, found an open shop, and asked the occupant about the theater in her rudimentary Spanish. As it turned out, this guy had some connection with the theater, unlocked the back door, led us in through the backstage areas, turned on the lights, and gave us a private tour. The large stage had a raked floor (the floor rises as you go away from the audience, so that actors in back can still be seen), like some 1800's opera houses we've visited or performed in, in the northeast US. A gigantic chandelier high in the center originally supported hundreds of oil lamps. It was lowered by rope and pulley in order to fill and light the lamps. The lights are now electric, of course. Our guide was most insistent that we understand that all the interior woodwork was original, except the roof, which has been replaced. The roof was supported by wooden beams extending between several huge natural stone arches which spanned the hall from side to side.
Driving into and out of the old town was a real challenge in the truck. Some intersections were so narrow that I had to back and fill twice to bend the truck around the corner. Ancient Mexicans were sitting on doorsteps along these tiny streets. It's hard to imagine what they were thinking as we drove by in the big truck with two canoes on the roof.
2/21 We took a bus into town with the Davis' and toured the Francisco Goitia Museo, previously the Governor's Mansion and now containing a focussed collection of work by Goitia and a few other 20th C. Mexicans. We walked around the old aqueduct in this center-city area, trying unsuccessfully to find out how old it is. Then we had dinner at La Quinta Real, a modern 5-star hotel and restaurant. The architect did a marvelous job of wrapping a tastefully modern building around an ancient bullring, preserving much of the original stonework of the bullring. The restaurant cascades down the steeply sloped amphitheater on one side, in many very narrow levels, each with only a few tables, giving a great view from all tables. We could look out across the bullring, see the aqueduct towering above it 100 yards away, and see an impressive church steeple framed in an arch of the aqueduct.
We were disappointed to find that the main restaurant was closed. However, an extensive buffet service was available in another area, and may have been a better choice anyway, since we got to sample a much broader variety of food than would have been possible by ordering a meal in the restaurant. Everything was delicious, and they even managed to create an impressive presentation of the food – difficult in a buffet.
2/23 The club rally is over, and most of the other folks picked up and left fairly early this morning, dispersing individually or in small groups for various other Mexican destinations. About 10 rigs remained for another day. Dave puttered around the trailer and truck all day. Helen took a bus into town to see yet another museum, the Pedro Coronel. The nucleus of the P. Coronel was his private collection which included some pre-Hispanic works in clay and stone, along with a large display of Joan Miro paintings, with a smattering of items from the rest of the world.
In the evening, a bunch of us went into the city for another meal at La Quinta Real. This time, we ordered from the fabulous menu. We're not really qualified to critique "five star" food, but certainly enjoyed everything. The tables had thick linens, and elaborate place settings. The presentation of the food on the plates was a visual work of art. Total cost for Helen and me, including tip (but not including a moderately priced bottle of wine) was $35! Taxi fare from campground to restaurant, about 10 slow, heavy traffic, miles, was 40 pesos ($4) for four people. This required some negotiation, *before* getting into the cab.
2/24 Our turn to leave Zacatecas. We've decided to travel with six other couples who are heading east to Ciudad Victoria and then on over to a small village on the Gulf Coast, extending our time in Mexico by about a week. Several of them have been over most of the same route before, so we'll have little to do except follow the leader. We got underway at about 9 A.M.
The roads are narrow two-lane blacktop, generally with little or no shoulder, always busy and occasionally rough surfaced, but no real problem, with careful driving. There is generally a parallel dirt road 50 feet or so from the highway, and this track was used by pedestrians (usually laden with bags and bundles), bicycles, flocks of goats and sheep, burro carts, and an occasional ancient farm tractor. Every few miles, unimproved dirt roads led off to tiny villages, each with a labeled bus stop at the highway. Once, we passed a school with all the students lined up in the yard in fancy uniforms. We're still driving through the central highlands, crossing from Zacatecas State to San Louis Potosi State around noon. It's mostly agricultural – broad valleys with high mountains visible in the distance. The crops range from cattle to hay and alfalfa, to small truck farms where a little irrigation water is available. At one point we see a huge cone-shaped mountain on the horizon – it must be an ancient volcano.
We stopped at our first real Mexican campground at about 2:30 P.M. It's not much of a campground. We're lined up along a dirt drive behind a motel that is still under construction. We have full hookups which no one is using. I checked the recently installed electricity and found all the outlets were miswired in various ways – reversed polarity, open ground, etc. The sewer outlets are a foot above the ground, which would make it difficult to drain our tanks, which aren't much higher than that. The water outlets are on the opposite side of the drive. For this, we're paying $11/night – the first thing in Mexico that hasn't been bargain priced.
2/25 A very interesting drive through very rural Mexico and over several bands of mountains. It's strange to be driving down a paved highway among big snorting trucks, while on a parallel track, there are burros pulling crude two-wheel carts fashioned of axles from junked cars and bits of scrap lumber, piled high with corn stalks, fresh cut alfalfa, bundles of brush (for cooking fires?), and the other paraphernalia of rural subsistence living. Other burros were being ridden. We saw one burro carrying a big man with a small boy in front of him, and a huge bundle of wood on the back. The load must have outweighed the burro. Another burro was being led, and was loaded with so many bundles of corn stalks that all we could see of the burro was ears and four feet, trotting along among the corn that was hanging almost to the ground on all sides.
One of the valleys we passed through seemed much poorer than the others, with no visible cities or industries, and tiny ramshackle villages. We frequently saw roadside vendors, sitting in tiny sun shelters made of bundles of local brush, with a few nondescript handcrafts hanging out front. One vendor was standing in the road holding up a tiny baby goat for sale.
We gained quite a bit of altitude going over the mountains, and lost a lot more altitude, several times. Zacatecas was at 7100 feet above sea level Ciudad Victoria is at 800 feet. The last major pass before we descended into Victoria was at 5300 feet, and was only about 20 miles before the city, so the exhaust brake got a serious workout.
Both the weather and the foliage changed dramatically as we came over the mountains. The dry clear air of the central highlands gave way to haze. There should have been many spectacular vistas as we drove through the mountains. Unfortunately, the haze obscured most of the long views.
The temperature rose into the 80's, and the humidity also rose dramatically. Clearly, this is the boundary where we're crossing into the weather dominated by the Gulf of Mexico, although we're still 100 miles or so inland. We began seeing spring flowers soon after cresting the first of the mountain passes. At the higher elevations, one stretch of road was lined with redbud trees in full bloom. As we descended, we began to see many other flowering trees and bushes, as well as palm trees and other semi-tropical plants. In a vacant field near the campground, Dave picked a bouquet of prickly poppy, pink mallow, and sunflowers to decorate the trailer.
Victoria RV Park is a welcome oasis of civilization after the crude accommodations we've had since we entered Mexico. We have full hookups, and all are properly designed and work well. The electricity is only 20 amp, but at least it is properly wired. The water is safe to drink (according to others who have stayed here before). The park is run by an American and his Mexican wife (who also speaks good English).
After setting up at the campsite, Dave walked down the street to a huge Soriana store – sort of Mexico's answer to Wal-Mart – grocery store, department store, small shops inside the big store, and lots of space to wander around. The groceries are a strange blend of familiar and unfamiliar. The bakery department has an interesting procedure: A customer picks up a metal tray about 16" in diameter and a pair of steel tongs for picking up bakery items. One wanders around selecting items from a huge variety of pastries and bread, picking up the desired items with the tongs and placing them on the tray. Then, the tray is taken to a clerk who transfers the items to a bag while totaling the prices. The bag, with a register tape stapled to it, is placed in the shopping cart and paid for later with the rest of the groceries.
In the evening, 12 of us packed into three small cars and drove to a nearby restaurant (El Mesquite), where we had an excellent meal, again at typically moderate Mexican prices.
2/26 It's hot and humid. We're running the air conditioner for the first time in ages. Dave has an uneasy digestive system – something he ate obviously didn't agree with him.
2/27 Still hot and humid. We never quite got up the ambition to go explore the town, and enjoyed relaxing in the trailer.
2/28 We went back to El Mesquite for their brunch, then packed up and headed for the beach. La Pesca is a tiny village about 150 miles east of Victoria, on the Gulf Coast. The highway was generally good, although narrow and twisty, so the trip was uneventful. The foliage gradually got more lush and tropical as we approached the coast, and we began to see palm trees scattered over the hillsides. Somewhere along the way, we passed a sign indicating that we were crossing the Tropic of Cancer.
I just realized that the automobile situation here reminds me of the 1950's in the U.S., when we were less affluent and our cars were much less reliable There are a great many very old cars and trucks still running here. Partially disassembled cars being repaired are a frequent sight. And it's quite common to see cars and trucks off the road with the hood up and a pair of feet sticking out from under. Small shops which specialize in fixing flat tires are very frequent everywhere. Most vehicles are still using old-fashioned bias-ply tires, locally manufactured with obsolete equipment purchased from the U.S. when the U.S. changed over to radial-ply tires about 30 years ago.
We're camped on a sandspit directly on the Gulf of Mexico. It was fairly crowded with local families when we arrived, midafternoon on a Sunday. By dark, we had the place to ourselves. One group apparently didn't like the gringos taking over their beach, and a headlamp was broken on one rig while some of our group were at a restaurant and Helen and I were out walking on a long jetty extending out into the Gulf. A relatively cool (but humid) breeze is coming in from the Gulf, so we're much more comfortable than we have been for the last several days. This is fortunate, since we're dry camping and can't run our air conditioner. It's nice to be near water again. The wind is strong enough to create sizeable surf, and this creates a constant soothing noise in the background.
The little harbor mouth where we are camped is guarded by a detachment of four Navy sailors, carrying automatic rifles, sitting around a shack with a thatched roof. The first two of our group who drove onto the sandspit and parked were asked to move – their rigs were blocking the view of the harbor from the guard shack. The Navy was polite about it, but quite insistent, and who's going to argue with 4 automatic rifles?. It's not clear what they are guarding. The harbor isn't big enough for anything but the local fishing boats. After watching for a while, we've concluded that these sailors are part of the "war on drugs" which the U.S. is coercing Mexico to implement. Every little fishing boat is recorded on a clipboard and inspected as it enters and leaves the harbor. Of course the Navy is only on duty from about 7 A.M. to 6 P.M., and half the fishing fleet leaves or arrives before or after these hours, completely un-noted. And most of these boats are relatively flat bottomed and could land on the beach anywhere along miles of uninhabited shoreline. So the whole thing seems to be a silly sham – giving the sailors something to do, and perhaps keeping the U.S. government placated.
3/1 Last night, the Navy presence in the area was appreciated. About 10:30, a car filled with six drunks wobbled onto our sandspit and parked about 100 yards from us. The drunks immediately began making an excessive amount of noise. Ten minutes later, a big truck drove in, turned around, and parked with its headlights illuminating the drunks. A detachment of sailors, carrying their automatic rifles, jumped out and surrounded the car. We couldn't see exactly what was happening, but everything became very quiet. At one point, we could see the drunks all lined up in a row along one side of the car. Half an hour later, the car left, followed a few minutes later by the truck. The rest of the night was quiet.
Today was the lazy kind of day - sitting around enjoying the beach, getting acquainted with the others in the group, and walking the shore picking up shells. In mid-morning, a guy with no English wandered through, apparently trying to collect a camping fee. Those who had been here before had already warned us that various local people might try to collect a fee for "cleaning up the beach" or whatever, but that this was a free boondocking area. So the fee-collector was politely sent on his way without fee. Later, he came back, with another guy in a uniform, apparently a local policeman. The uniform had a little English, and eventually convinced us that indeed the town now imposed a 50 peso per night camping fee. We all paid the fee, and the fee collector filled out an impressive-looking printed receipt form, so perhaps it was legitimate.
In the afternoon, a young couple from Ontario drove in, parked next to us, and joined our circle, hungry to hear English after having traveled rural Mexico for some time. They had just returned from Chiapas.
3/2 The group got underway at about 8:45 a.m., headed north to the border. It's amazing that those extremely narrow, shoulderless, roads which were so intimidating when we first entered Mexico now seem almost normal, and we're passing the big trucks with aplomb. The trip was uneventful up until our first rest stop, when we went back to the trailer and found it full of a strong sewage odor. We checked everything we could think of , and couldn't find anything wrong. An hour later, we started hearing unusual noises from somewhere behind us. We stopped again, and checked everything. There was still a sewage smell, but the canoes were still tied tightly, the tires all look OK, etc. The RV following us didn't see anything unusual. Keep going!
Finally, while we were parked at Mexican Customs, another member of our group noticed that something looked unusual directly under the trailer axles. It turned out that our grey water tank was hanging low, broken loose from its mounts. Since we've been boondocking for several days, the tank was nearly full, and 40 gallons of water weighs 320 pounds. The frequent Mexican potholes and "topes" (ubiquitous, very aggressive speed bumps) finally took their toll, ripping out all the zillion little wood screws which held the tank up against the trailer floor. The plastic shroud which seals the entire underbelly area around this tank was pulled loose and shredded. The tank, now empty, was no longer touching the ground, but obviously had been dragging on the ground while full of water. The dragging on the pavement had worn a hold in one corner, draining the water and allowing the tank to spring back up several inches clear of the road (held in place by some of the attached plumbing on the other end.) Nothing to do now but keep going. I dug out some rope and tied the tank temporarily back in place.
The Los Indios border crossing was, as advertised, nearly deserted. We all trooped into customs to turn in our vehicle permits and tourist visas. Then we stood around for 20 minutes, waiting for the customs guy to come out to the parking lot and verify that the vehicles matched the information on the permits. All routine, but it seemed agonizing slow and inefficient. We crossed into the U.S. at about 4 p.m., and were immediately directed into an inspection area. The inspection turned out to be perfunctory – just a quick walk-through and a few routine questions. We had carefully used up all the prohibited produce – meat, fruit, vegetables, etc, but weren't asked about any of this.
First things first – after clearing customs, we stopped at the first phone booth where we could get the rig off the road, and phoned our mail service to get three weeks of accumulated mail sent out. Then we started thinking about where to spend the night – which will probably turn into several nights as we try to get the sewage tank fixed. There are plenty of RV Parks in this area (we're near Harlingen, Texas, in the middle of "The Valley" or "South Texas", which advertises that it has 66,000 RV sites). Most are long-term residential parks, and we knew nothing about any of them. We finally picked Posada del Sol from the Map'n'Go description. We're getting good at reading "between the lines" in these brief directory descriptions. The RV Park turned out to be a lovely place in a rural setting, and had several pleasant sites available. A convenient computer desk has been installed in a quiet lounge, with power, modem connection, and a communal laptop computer available for anyone to use.
The next order of business after setting up the trailer was to download our accumulated Email. Amazingly, it only took about 20 minutes. Sprynet had stored it all without complaint – about 4 megabytes worth. So we're now plowing through all this mail, and it will take a while. If you sent us something that needs a response, don't expect to hear much from us for a few more days!
When we get the repairs completed, we expect to head west to Big Bend National Park, and then will head north through New Mexico and Colorado, trying to drift north with the spring flowers.