In the Birthplace of Zorro

Alamos to El Fuerte

We packed up at the campground in Alamos, no easy task considering how we had made the place home. Packing up the van was the easy part. We had purchased a beautiful painting the night before in the Plaza de Armas and needed to package it for shipment home. Remy set out on his bike to round up the appropriate materials before Liz wrapped it up and consigned it to the care of Wendee and Rene, a couple of "full-timers" (more RV jargon) who will be passing through Calgary in May on their way to spend the summer in Stettler, where they will be "work camping" at Old MacDonald's RV Park.

There was a protracted goodbye with all of our new acquaintances before we chugged out of the campground. Our next destination, El Fuerte, was only about 3 hours drive away. We pulled into the one true RV campground that there is in El Fuerte and were instantly disappointed. We were met by the unofficial greeting party, an American woman who said she liked it there because it was quiet, then immediately counseled us to keep the boys close by as the "Mexicans were all around and you just never know". Clouds of noseeums, rank smoke from the nearby burning barrels and bathrooms that failed to meet even medieval standards sent us packing from there, determined to seek out better quarters downtown. We settled by sheer serendipity on the Hotel La Choza, located just off the main plaza. For about $65 per night (compared to the astronomical $24 at the outer circle of Hell that was the RV park) we got a be-ooooo-tiful room witha domed brick ceiling looking out over a wonderful courtyard, and they agreed to let us park the van in the courtyard while we take the train to the Copper Canyon!

Once that deal was settled, however, came the task of getting the van into the courtyard. The carriage way into the hotel from the street was approximately 1 cm higher than the roof box on the van, and that was with a 200 lb Mexican man riding on the ladder at at the back, checking clearance! Remy had dreams that night about the van being stuck in various situations, showing that our getaway will be a concern. Other than that, we all slept like babies.

The following morning found us starting with breakfast in the room and then hitting the streets early to explore El Fuerte. It still has a lot of its colonial heritage, and we found the Posada Del Hidalgo, a hotel purportedly built on the site of the home to the man that was the historical inspiration for Zorro. The day was mostly spent shopping, with an afternoon bike tour of the crumbling malecon along the river bank. We returned to the hotel to enjoy its beautiful and tranquil setting (until Bowen and Hollis get there, of course). It has a few quirks, as do most things Mexican, it seems, like the three pens out back holding a total of four very small deer, two bucks and two fawns. No idea what that is about.

We returned to the Posada Del Hidalgo at 5:30 PM for the Zorro Happy Hour that had been advertised. We were obviously delirious from the heat. We found ourselves under a palapa beside the pool amidst a group of bus package tourists, being serenaded by a super-cheesy Zorro and mariachi band, while a strange mixture of blue-haired geriatric Japanese Americans and very crass white trash from the tour bus outside jammed tables around us. We purchased over-priced "national" drinks on the 2 for 1 deal, which apparently means that they make you two drinks using the amount of alcohol normally allotted to one. Hollis summed it up afterward by stating that "that wasn't a Happy Hour, that was a Retarded Hour". We would not have been surprised to have been subjected to a timeshare presentation at the conclusion of the whole sordid affair.

We got sucked into one shop earlier in the afternoon filled with interesting antiquities and curios, staffed by an eager woman that shared the space with her pre-school aged son and a kid- goat, that is! We ended up paying for the privilege of photographing her kids, but she was intent on making a sale and would not let us out of the store. The boys, that is. Liz, repulsed by the general dustiness and filth, including fresh goat droppings, found it easy to leave, but all the boys were entranced by the wonderful old junk that was on offer and were all the more easily tempted to remain. Liz finally had to return and free us from the siren's song and push and cajole us outside.

We took the boys out for tacos at a stand with which we were familiar, then installed them in the room with a Rambo movie on the English language channel. Liz and Remy repaired to the hotel restaurant, where we had earlier handed in the package of doves that had been gifted to us by the hunter in the group back in the campground at Alamos. It fell a bit outside the experience of the staff at the hotel to have guests request food cooked to order, but they accommodated the crazy gringos and wrapped the tiny carcasses in bacon, as requested, and served them up to us. Something different for all of us.

We had our first encounter with "Montezuma's revenge", with Liz, Remy and Hollis all affected to greater or lesser degrees. Not an auspicious start to our train journey, but at least it struck while we were comfortably lodged in a hotel and not in the restricted confines of the van. The only likely culprit we can identify is the birria, which we tried for the first time today, but in actual fact, who knows? Bowen was the only one that braved the icy pool and he does not yet appear to have been affected- maybe there is something to be said for that.

-Remy