Hasta Luego Mexico

Monday, March 26, 2012 to Tuesday morning

The last full day of our Mexican journey was anticlimactic.  We'd left the ocean behind and the mountains no longer dominated our route.  We could have easily made it to Nogales in Arizona, but sometimes traffic backs up at the border and we decided to cross in the morning when we would not be stressed for time.  As we neared Magdalena de Kino, road construction slowed our progress and we were happy to call it a day.  Our accommodation was the back lot of a motel.

We had our usual late afternoon shower to cool down.  Jim popped open a beer and poured me a tequila cocktail.  I used the last of the fresh white cheese to make an exceptional pizza.  We spent the evening reminiscing about our four winters in Mexico.  It has been a joy getting to know this country and its marvelous people.  Everywhere we went we were greeted with great cordiality.  Every part of the country astonished us with its beauty and its history.  How fortunate we were to come here.

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In the morning we stopped a few kilometers short of the border to turn in our motorhome permit and our visitors' visas.  When I attempted to convert some pesos into dollars, the woman at the kiosk turned me away.  This was the booth for new arrivals in Mexico to buy pesos.  I would get a better exchange rate selling my pesos at the kiosk across the highway and she would not take advantage of me!

I took a final photo of this sculpture as we passed through a small town.  

Adios, hasta la vista, gracias Mexico.

San Carlos

Sunday, March 25, 2012

We were skeptical when the Churches' guidebook warned of the possibility of fog north of Los Mochis, but there it was.  It brought only the tiniest twinge of homesickness.

This was another day of 5-6 hours on the road.  Our preference is NOT to strain ourselves or our rig by punching in 10 or 12 hour days.  Many people would drive from the Tepic area to the border in 2 days but we were in no rush.  This was our first visit to the northwest coast and we may want to return, so it's good to get a sense of the place.

Our last stop on the coast was Totonaka RV Park in San Carlos.  It was the largest park we have visited, with 130 sites.  For some campers this is the first and only stop in Mexico.  There is a community of RVers that spends the entire winter here, just a day's drive from the U.S.

We had dinner at an upstairs restaurant as the sun set over the bay, our last view of the ocean for this year.

Los Mochis and a celebration

Saturday, March 24, 2012

The Celestino Beach RV park was in a beautiful location, had a friendly caretaker, friendlier cats, etc., etc., but brought one huge disappointment:  WiFi was no longer available.  All three parks on the beach had dropped the service due to their hard economic situation.  Ordinarily a day without WiFi would not constitute a major catastrophe but this was not an ordinary day.  This was the day the next NDP leader was to be chosen at the Toronto convention and I wanted to watch.  My plan had been to take a layday, keep the computer charged up and check on ballots in between beach walks.  It was not to be and there was no point staying put and fuming in frustration.  

Our Saskatchewan friends filled us in on the results of the first ballot, which they were able to pick up via satellite.  But their priority for the day was watching championship curling, so we couldn't cosy up to their TV.  At Happy Hour the previous night we had noted the conservative views of the other Canadians in the park who had satellite, so no hope there.  Might as well move on.  We knew the next park had no WiFi but we might as well make progress toward our ultimate destination.

The coastal highway made for good driving, with a relatively flat autopista flanked by inland mountains.  Jim drove most of the way, with me doing my best to cherry-pick the easy stretches.  We were to spend the night at Los Mochis, where there is a down-on-its-heels RV park close to the interchange.  Unfortunately we did not exit at THAT interchange.  Our mistake in exiting a few hundred meters too soon was compounded by an error in our guidebook.

Now, it is impossible to RV in Mexico without constant reference to A Traveler's Guide to Mexican Camping  by Terri and Mike Church.  It's a wonderful book which describes all the RV parks, how to get to them, what to do and see in each area -- absolutely all the essentials.  The Churches are real genuine people, quite down-to-earth.  They research their books extensively, travelling in their truck camper.  This was the first of our four winters in Mexico that we did not encounter them.  Their advice has rarely led us astray.


But here we are on the wrong approach into Los Mochis.  We begin to suspect we may not be on the right road, but I have entered the Churches' lat/long coordinates for the park into our GPS and we think this will rescue us.  Oddly though, the GPS wants us to take a route right through the town for 6 km.  So we do.  Once again we drive our fat contraption through streets not designed for our girth. And when we reach the waypoint, where are we?  No, not at the RV park.  They have sent us to a bloody Walmart!  Now what does that tell us about the homing instincts of our *American* RV gurus? 


Okay.  After a few more adventures we acquired a pollo asada from a street stand.  Four workers assembled all the accompaniments for our chicken -- plastic bags of fresh warm tortillas, salsa, rice, lettuce in water (new one on us) -- while simultaneously arguing over the best directions to get us to the RV park.

Finally, finally we are at the park.  Most of the big Class-A RVs are from Quebec and are sitting empty.  Their owners were clever enough to figure out how to catch the train to the magnificent Copper Canyon.  We'll have to see it another time.  I snapped a picture of all the Quebec rigs sporting maple leaf flag license plates.  Let's hear no more talk of our Quebecois friends denying their Canadian citizenship.

A bright young man came to check us in, so we completed the little form and handed over our tarif.  Then he said the magic words, "Would you like the WiFi code?"  Well!! I did my happy dance, we broke out the vino and the cervesas and cranked up the computer.  We were able to follow the last ballot and, for the one and only occasion this winter, we were able to stream live video, so got to watch Tom Mulcair's acceptance speech and toast our new leader.

Note the orange shirt -- we both wore them for the occasion.

Celestino Beach

Friday, March 23, 2012

Jim started the day with a business meeting.  He had arranged to visit a large shipyard in Mazatlan and was extremely impressed with the quality and scope of the operation.  The owner, a most impressive gentleman, gave Jim a ride back to the RV park.  As Jim gave him the tour of our casa mobil, I watched the look of horror on the man's face.  Those crazy canucks -- imagine choosing to live in this little box!

Mazatlan just wasn't our speed so we drove along to Celestino Beach, its complete opposite.  This is a pristine natural beach, frequented by seabirds and dophins.  You pass through a tiny speck of a village, then take a lumpy, unpaved road to a string of RV parks.  We chose one that had been recommended by friends and were pleasantly surprised to find them there. 

The park was small and basic but attractive, with lots of trees and basic amenities such as laundry and a book exchange.  This coast has suffered greatly in the past few years with a sharp decline in the number of RVers coming from north of the border.  The nightly cost at each of the parks on the beach is now only 150 pesos, about $12.  The monthly rent was a mere 2000 pesos, $160, with free off-season storage available.

One of the more attractive features of the park was Pedro.  He's a handsome, well-fed kitty.  There are several resident cats who have been neutered by park regulars.  They are living the good life.  Pedro sampled our treats and accepted cuddles.  We returned from a stroll and opened the RV door, to be met by Pedro on his way out.  Presumably he had entered through an open window.  Later in the evening he came back to check for leftovers from our barbecue, bringing with him a handsome, dark-coated associate.

Reaching the beach

March 22, 2012

At last we were on the autopista, the toll road, and heading west, down the mountains toward the Pacific Coast.  For much of the way we had a divided highway, with two lanes in each direction, but quality can drop without warning and tolls are not cut just because you hit a 2-lane section or have to drive through a big city. Every hour or two we handed over our cuota (toll) of 87 pesos or 112 pesos or some other seemingly random number.  Between tolls and regular gas purchases the currency stack was shrinking steadily.  (Gas, by the way, was up to 10 pesos a liter this year, about $0.80 Cdn.)  

The first year we came to Mexico we attempted to use our Visa card in various types of businesses but it was never accepted.  The simple solution was to give ourselves a weekly cash allowance from an ATM.  Credit card use is spreading in Mexico and we understand many Pemex gas bars now take them, as well as upscale restaurants and retailers.  We decided it's not a bad idea to have three months per year in a purely cash economy so we continue to rest our plastic while in Mexico. 

                        

We hit Tepic just at lunch time and stopped at a small restaurant to have gigantic juicy pork tortas and our favourite apple-flavoured pop.  There were police and military checkpoints at both ends of the city.  We were asked for our destination and then waved on through. Later in the day we came to the checkpoint we truly feared -- the agricultural inspection.  Some Mexican states restrict the movement of fresh foods from other parts of the country.  We are deeply suspicious that these regulations have more to do with protecting local farmers than preventing the spread of disease.  It would be such a shame to lose the rest of our lovely berries.  Anyway, we got lucky.  We owned up to the limes that were in full view and invited the inspector to check our fridge, but he just smiled and wished us a good trip.

And here we are, dressed for an evening out in Mazatlan.  At the end of our long day's journey we drove (inadvertently) through some of the busiest streets of this resort city, marvelling at the big buildings and crowds of tourists.

We had a great dinner of coconut camarones (shrimp) in the company of a friendly couple from Michigan who had spent last summer visiting Newfoundland in their 5th wheel.

We wondered how many of the people around us would top our costs for 12 weeks in Mexico in their one or two week vacation.