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.

Which way to Etzatlan?

March 21, 2012
Our aversion to driving in or around Guadalajara began the day in 2010 when we were trying to skirt around the city as we drove north to south. Our GPS guided us into the heart of the metropolis, spouted a few nonsense instructions, and then blithely announced, "No data is available for your current location."

This year we poked our nose into Guadalajara to buy building supplies at Home Depot. The navigator (me) missed a crucial turn and we spent the next 45 minutes trying to find our way back to the key junction.  Round and round we went.  The GPS would count down the kilometres and we'd be really close, possibly even in sight of that huge Home Depot sign.  Then, Jim would chicken out on a right-side merge down a steep sloop into a 3-lane lateral, and the km would start to ratchet up again.  Or the GPS did not account for an exit that had been closed off since the last map update.  At one exciting moment, we were driving along with four lanes of traffic in each direction, when the GPS instructed us to get into the left lane and announced, "left turn in 800 metres".  Oh sure.  But it was quite right -- there was a special overpass to allow hapless drivers to double back to where they should have been.  Exciting times.

[That day I did something I never did before in my entire life.  When we finally got to the store, I poured a shot of tequila and tossed it back before I could face shopping.  Don't tell Mother.]

My point is that we are utterly phobic about Guadalajara and would do anything to avoid a route that included the city's periferico or ring road.  How then to drive west toward the coast?  When we heard of a park in a rural Etzatlan that could be reached by travelling south of the city we decided it was for us.  It also made for a short run on our first day out of the Lake Chapala area.  Alas, less than an hour from our destination, Tomi (nickname for the female voice who torments us through our TomTom unit) took us on a creative shortcut.  The low point was when we found ourselves on an actual, literal cowpath.  We persevered (NEVER go back is my attitude) and got to a tiny crossroads.  An elderly woman and a young boy were quite unable to offer assistance.  I don't believe they understood us when we said 'Etzatlan', but in any case, people who don't drive cars are often unable to help with road directions.

Should have followed the sugar-cane truck.

I can say with some confidence that we were the first RV to navigate through several of the narrow lanes we traversed during the afternoon.  The total time we were off-road was not long, but it was a bit worrying.  Would we reach a place we could not get through and have to retrace our path?  Eventually we found ourselves in a village where some of the approaching traffic was bigger than Vagrant Van.  A little while later we connected with a wider road.  Saved again.

Delia's RV Park was a welcome sight.  It is run by a woman called Bonnie, so it had to be good.  It is a park in every sense -- trees, a grassy field and lots of animals.  Several of the resident dogs came to visit during the evening, once word got around that Jim was distributing treats.

Hard to spot, but there are two iguanas in this picture.

The horses were curious, but spurned my withered carrots.