We were about 40 minutes off the freeway when we passed through a little town called Rancho Viejo. Just a hole in the wall kind of town. On the right hand side of the road we passed a number of little cement buildings, much like a single stall car garage. These had all been converted to diners. We randomly chose one for lunch and parked in front. We were in for a surprise.
Of all the diners in that town, we just happened to stop at the only one run by an American woman! She was married to a Mexican man and followed him back to his home town to live. She was starved for somebody to talk to in her native language. We invited her to sit down with us and had a very nice conversation with her while her mother-in-law prepared our lunch. I think we got special treatment because our lunch, while I forget exactly what we had, was delicious and bountiful! Almost with a sadness we hadn't expected, we finally had to say goodbye and get back on the road. I vividly remember her standing by the road waving to us for as long as she could.
Not long after that, our good cheer induced by our lunch came to an end. To say it was hot that day is to not adequately describe the weather. It was horrible. And to add to our misery, the road turned into a dusty, bumpy, bumper to bumper mess of road construction. For miles we were forced to creep our way inch by inch forward. At times the backup was so bad I actually shut the engine off to give it a break. It was not a fun time.
After what seemed an eternity, we were finally back on good pavement and passing through downtown Guamuchil. I think I overreacted to something that happened at one of the interminably long stop lights. I was guilty of cultural stupidity.
We were still about 10 cars back from the stop light with all of our windows open. I noticed a man walking down the lengths of cars, handing something to the drivers. When he got to me, he showed me a pile of coupon books for local businesses. I graciously told him "No Gracias". He thrust the documents through the window into my face anyway, almost hitting me. I was tired of driving by then, tired of being hot and tired of being in the car. I swiped his hand away from my face and again said "NO GRACIAS!". With that, he tossed the flyers into the car onto my lap and walked away. I angrily picked them up and flung them out the window onto the grass beside the road. Both B and L at that point started to tell me how rude I was by doing that. I lashed out at them to SHUT THE FUCK UP! They both fell silent.
Shortly thereafter the man returned, picked up the flyers and angrily walked in front of my car and started to write down my license plate number! I was having none of that. I thought he was going to report me for littering or something. For throwing the trash he threw at me out onto the street. I inched the car forward in an attempt go keep him from seeing all of my plate number. He jumped back out of the way and headed for my window. I rolled it up and gave him the finger. With that, the line moved and I was safely on my way through the light.
I found out afterwards that these guys just hand the flyers to you and if you want to keep them, you have to pay them for them. If not, you just hand them back to them when they come back down the line. I didn't know that. Otherwise I would have just taken them and handed them back to him. No problem. It was his attitude about it that pissed me off so badly. Pushing them into my face and then throwing them onto my lap.
Even though I felt somewhat justified in treating rudeness with rudeness, it left a sour taste in my mouth that lingers to this day when I think about it. Needless to say, the rest of the drive to Los Mochis was completely in almost total silence.
Thursday, April 9, 2009
Tuesday, April 7, 2009
Summer 2007 Car Trip - 42
Once on the freeway known as MX 15. Our route that day took us through Culiacan, Guamuchil, Guasave and on to Los Mochis. It was only about a four hour drive and, with a couple of exceptions, was uneventful and actually boring.
From Mazatlan to Culiacan is about 220 km, or 138 miles. All fast freeway. Except for all the bikes on the freeway that day. There was evidently a bike marathon going on and imagine our surprise when we saw flashing lights up ahead and discovered a covey of about 30 bikes in the right hand lane. These guys were fortunate. They had an escort of police and private vehicles, all flashing their hazard lights.
We thought we were pass them and had just speeded up to the speed limit of 68 MPH when I had to hit the brakes and slow way down again. Another group of bikers. This time without an escort. Just out their all on their own. At least they stayed in the right lane.
This freeway is not flat. It is a series of gently rolling hills. Not steep but to large to see over until you crest them. A rather dangerous place to be on a bike without an escort. We were to eventually see many more. Some small groups, some individuals. I was glad to finally cut off the freeway to the secondary road which would take us through Culican and back onto the freeway on the other side.
From Mazatlan to Culiacan is about 220 km, or 138 miles. All fast freeway. Except for all the bikes on the freeway that day. There was evidently a bike marathon going on and imagine our surprise when we saw flashing lights up ahead and discovered a covey of about 30 bikes in the right hand lane. These guys were fortunate. They had an escort of police and private vehicles, all flashing their hazard lights.
We thought we were pass them and had just speeded up to the speed limit of 68 MPH when I had to hit the brakes and slow way down again. Another group of bikers. This time without an escort. Just out their all on their own. At least they stayed in the right lane.
This freeway is not flat. It is a series of gently rolling hills. Not steep but to large to see over until you crest them. A rather dangerous place to be on a bike without an escort. We were to eventually see many more. Some small groups, some individuals. I was glad to finally cut off the freeway to the secondary road which would take us through Culican and back onto the freeway on the other side.
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Summer 2007 Car Trip - 41
The next morning, following the signs to Culiacan and Expressway MX15, we made our way out of Mazatlan. We had noticed that the tires were getting a little low so we stopped at a Pemex gas station to get gas and filled the tires. We also grabbed a cup of gas station coffee to slug down on the way.
We weren't far down the road when the car started to feel sluggish and heavy. We all know that feeling. The one that says "Your tire is going flat." I pulled over to the side of the road and we had a look. Yup. The tire that had looked a little low and that we had just put air in was now almost flat. There was enough air to drive for a little ways though.
We drove a bit further down the road and saw a sign for a vulcanizador, or tire repair shop. We pulled over and patiently waited for the owner to finish what he was doing and saunter over to us. He took one look at the tire and said "You want me to fix that?" Kind of a duh question.
He jacked up the car, took the tire off and disappeared back into his workshop to have a look see.
Take a look at our wheel. Remember, the car at that time was just barely two years old. That's what constant exposure to sea salt laden air will do.
While we were waiting for the verdict, I had a little peek into his "warehouse". I would be shocked if any part you needed was not in there somewhere.
Shortly thereafter he came out and motioned us to follow him. He showed us the tire and the huge screw that was stuck in the tire. He said he could patch it good as new so we told him to go ahead. The whole process took 20 minutes and cost us a whopping 50 pesos.
The whole visit with this guy took considerably longer. He wanted to chat. He had noticed our Quintana Roo license plates and had about a thousand questions regarding Hurricane Wilma. He had heard the island had broken into two pieces, that people had been swept out to sea, all kinds of nonsense like that. We were more than happy to set him straight as to what the real damage was.
Finally we were back on the road and heading for MX and our next destination.
We weren't far down the road when the car started to feel sluggish and heavy. We all know that feeling. The one that says "Your tire is going flat." I pulled over to the side of the road and we had a look. Yup. The tire that had looked a little low and that we had just put air in was now almost flat. There was enough air to drive for a little ways though.
We drove a bit further down the road and saw a sign for a vulcanizador, or tire repair shop. We pulled over and patiently waited for the owner to finish what he was doing and saunter over to us. He took one look at the tire and said "You want me to fix that?" Kind of a duh question.
He jacked up the car, took the tire off and disappeared back into his workshop to have a look see.
Take a look at our wheel. Remember, the car at that time was just barely two years old. That's what constant exposure to sea salt laden air will do.
While we were waiting for the verdict, I had a little peek into his "warehouse". I would be shocked if any part you needed was not in there somewhere.
Shortly thereafter he came out and motioned us to follow him. He showed us the tire and the huge screw that was stuck in the tire. He said he could patch it good as new so we told him to go ahead. The whole process took 20 minutes and cost us a whopping 50 pesos.
The whole visit with this guy took considerably longer. He wanted to chat. He had noticed our Quintana Roo license plates and had about a thousand questions regarding Hurricane Wilma. He had heard the island had broken into two pieces, that people had been swept out to sea, all kinds of nonsense like that. We were more than happy to set him straight as to what the real damage was.
Finally we were back on the road and heading for MX and our next destination.
Thursday, March 19, 2009
Summer 2007 Car Trip - 40
With L navigating and me gritting my teeth in the crazy traffic, we located the hotel we had earmarked in the Lonely Planet. It was right across the street from the ocean and had a pool. Perfect. It was the Hotel Sands Arena (18 out of 30) and adequate for our needs for one night. Even though it was $80 for the night and we had an interior, basement room.
We unpacked and immediately went for a relaxing swim/float in the pool. It felt really great after being in the car for almost 8 hours again. Six of those hours negotiating through the mountains. After our swim, we walked across the street to check out the beach and, for the first time on this trip, dip our feet into the Pacific Ocean.
I was not overly impressed with the beach. Maybe because I come from the pristine sand and beaches of the Caribbean, but this beach struck me as dirty. Swarthy may be a better word. It was certainly not garbage laden or anything like that. It just did not have a friendly feel to it and the beach was littered with small jelly fish carcasses. Something we were to encounter several times on this trip.
For dinner we tried the famous, or infamous, chain of restaurants, The Shrimp Bucket. I highly do NOT recommend this restaurant. What a rip off. We each ordered a bucket of shrimp, which was actually served in a bucket. We saw them being delivered to other tables and it looked like a good deal. I had the coconut shrimp. When it arrived, at a cost of $16.50 (in 2007 dollars) I was shocked. The stupid bucket they were served in had a false bottom and you did not get a bucket of shrimp at all. What you got was nine badly cooked shrimp. Like I said, a total rip off.
So, grumbling the entire time, we returned to our hotel rather early and headed for bed. We had a long drive ahead of us again the next day.
We unpacked and immediately went for a relaxing swim/float in the pool. It felt really great after being in the car for almost 8 hours again. Six of those hours negotiating through the mountains. After our swim, we walked across the street to check out the beach and, for the first time on this trip, dip our feet into the Pacific Ocean.
I was not overly impressed with the beach. Maybe because I come from the pristine sand and beaches of the Caribbean, but this beach struck me as dirty. Swarthy may be a better word. It was certainly not garbage laden or anything like that. It just did not have a friendly feel to it and the beach was littered with small jelly fish carcasses. Something we were to encounter several times on this trip.
For dinner we tried the famous, or infamous, chain of restaurants, The Shrimp Bucket. I highly do NOT recommend this restaurant. What a rip off. We each ordered a bucket of shrimp, which was actually served in a bucket. We saw them being delivered to other tables and it looked like a good deal. I had the coconut shrimp. When it arrived, at a cost of $16.50 (in 2007 dollars) I was shocked. The stupid bucket they were served in had a false bottom and you did not get a bucket of shrimp at all. What you got was nine badly cooked shrimp. Like I said, a total rip off.
So, grumbling the entire time, we returned to our hotel rather early and headed for bed. We had a long drive ahead of us again the next day.
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
Summer 2007 Car Trip - 39
We gradually finished our descent out of the mountains and entered onto the flatlands leading to Mazatlan. We passed through two Military check points along the way.
The first one was easy. They just waved us through. The second one was a pain in the ass. It was set up where one road ended at a T and you could go right or left. We wanted to go right towards Mazatlan. Every vehicle on the road was directed off to the a dusty side road that ended in three "stalls". You were directed into whichever one was empty. Once was empty. These guys were very thorough and checked everything. They even lifted off the plastic cup that sits at the base of the gear shift and checked in that space. I didn't even know there was a space under that thing! (to this day, that thing keeps popping off) When our turn came we were ordered out of the car and told to stand off to the side. Like we experienced a few years back outside of Zacatecas, we were made to stand in a group and were carefully watched by two guys with machine guns. A wickedly nervewracking experience, even knowing you have nothing to hide.
All checked out, we were given mere minutes to reassemble all of our stuff that they had unpacked and were finally on the homestretch to Mazatlan. Along the way we encountered a most amazing sight. It was an urban dust devil. We saw many of them in the flat fields this trip and trips past, but never one in a semi built up area. It was very impressive.
We were actually going to be in Mazatlan twice for this trip. It was our pivot point on the Pacific after arriving to the coast from the central regions. First we would be heading north from it and then passing back through on our way down the Pacific Coast.
We arrived in Mazatlan, passing by the Golden Coast exit, which is the tourist zone. No way did we want to end up there. We were planning on staying more central or downtown. As we inched our way along Avenue del Mar, I spotted a Dairy Queen. I squealed in delight at the thought of having a Blizzard and made note of its' location for future reference. Much of the drive, once you reach the ocean looks like this:
Believe it or not, that is the only picture I have of our first time in Mazatlan!
The first one was easy. They just waved us through. The second one was a pain in the ass. It was set up where one road ended at a T and you could go right or left. We wanted to go right towards Mazatlan. Every vehicle on the road was directed off to the a dusty side road that ended in three "stalls". You were directed into whichever one was empty. Once was empty. These guys were very thorough and checked everything. They even lifted off the plastic cup that sits at the base of the gear shift and checked in that space. I didn't even know there was a space under that thing! (to this day, that thing keeps popping off) When our turn came we were ordered out of the car and told to stand off to the side. Like we experienced a few years back outside of Zacatecas, we were made to stand in a group and were carefully watched by two guys with machine guns. A wickedly nervewracking experience, even knowing you have nothing to hide.
All checked out, we were given mere minutes to reassemble all of our stuff that they had unpacked and were finally on the homestretch to Mazatlan. Along the way we encountered a most amazing sight. It was an urban dust devil. We saw many of them in the flat fields this trip and trips past, but never one in a semi built up area. It was very impressive.
We were actually going to be in Mazatlan twice for this trip. It was our pivot point on the Pacific after arriving to the coast from the central regions. First we would be heading north from it and then passing back through on our way down the Pacific Coast.
We arrived in Mazatlan, passing by the Golden Coast exit, which is the tourist zone. No way did we want to end up there. We were planning on staying more central or downtown. As we inched our way along Avenue del Mar, I spotted a Dairy Queen. I squealed in delight at the thought of having a Blizzard and made note of its' location for future reference. Much of the drive, once you reach the ocean looks like this:
Believe it or not, that is the only picture I have of our first time in Mazatlan!
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