Life in Mexico has taken a dramatic change for the better since that first night in the Pemex gas station parking lot where Hollis got teary eyed and asked if he could fly home.
We asked around as is our fashion and found a sandy oasis on the outskirts of town where we could camp for free. ( We are having trouble loading photos at the moment so will try to add them later.)
Our little Shangri-La allowed us to camp on the quiet beach in one of the most beautiful spots ever. Nothing but the sound of the waves crashing on the beach to lull us to sleep each night.
We made friends with several of the long term boondockers and even got invited to the Marguerita party last Friday night at Peggy and Helmut's 5th wheel. (RV slang) We brought the boys and they giggled listening to the old folks (not us, the other campers) tell stories of life on the road. One fellow , Steve, from Vancouver Island showed Hollis what the locals call "Penis Mountain". It was true, the top of the mountain DID look like a penis and of course the boys laughed and laughed.
We toured up and down the beach collecting the most interesting shells, rocks and sea glass. We could even walk to the Soggy Peso beach bar for lunch or a beer if we didn't feel like cooking or if we ran out of veggies which did happen on our last day there. Next door to the bar was a sports shop that had showers in the back for 50 cents. I thought this was too good to be true so I gathered my razor, shampoo, lotion and clean towel for what I thought was going to be pure heaven. I rode my new coaster bike the mile or two down the road to luxuriate after 3 days of living wild but soon discovered the showers were a communal thing and blasted out frigid water only! I needed that shower so bad that I got naked despite the chance of some kite boarder dude walking in on me in all my frozen glory.
While enjoying a beer at the Soggy Peso one afternoon I met a couple from New Mexico who had been staying at the RV park in town. Chess and Alison didn't look like RV park types ( not that there's anything wrong with that!) so I invited them to join us at the beach. Turns out they have been touring in their Sprinter van for a one and a half years.... Kindred Spirits! They are excellent company around the fire and Chess and Remy spend hours looking over maps as we plan our next adventure ( Copper Canyon) Our plan is to drive to Alamos which is located inland about 250 Km from here and our new friends are planning their second trip there too. They know of a super secret campground at the Rancho Acosta just outside of town so I think we'll hook up with them there.
The boys are enjoying the fact that we have made some friends even if they are adult ones. Alison is keen to look at all the creepy, pointy and stinky things the boys bring us from their forays on the beach and Chess tells a good adventure story. We like them too because they share the same sense of adventure that we do and they are happy doing it in a smallish van customized to their simple needs.
-Liz
So we have already realized the dream- camping for free on the beach in Mexico! We are sandwiched between an impoverished fishing village and a community of condo houses, every second one of which has one of those "infinity" pools where the edge that faces the sea allows water to flow over, giving the illusion that the pool flows into the sea. It is a surreal place to be, between those that have no choice and have nothing, and those that do have a choice and have a lot. We have a choice and choose nothing- for a while, with the luxury of being able to choose more, when we choose.
Our van is pulled into one of the few copses of scrubby trees that remain along the beach, with a fire ring already built. We light fires of dried cactus at night, which burn so hot that one night chunks of rock were blasting off one of the surrounding stones!
We are next door to one of the local fishing villages, three of which line the bays that extend north of town. They are called La Manga 1, 2 and 3. You know that you are in a poor part of the world when they can't afford their own names and have to share a single one! It is quite depressing to walk the single dusty road that runs through town. People live in shanties built of adobe, cinderblock or corrugated steel. The desert on the other side of the road is festooned with garbage and midden piles of shells smashed open by the divers. Laundry is done by hand on a washboard and hung beside the dusty road to dry. Like many Mexican projects, the church is 2/3 complete and apparently reached that state decades ago. Some of the men work hard, putting out in their battered pangas 7 days a week to fish; some don't work at all. All of the women work hard. Children are schooled until about grade 5, but if they have no way of getting into the nearest sizeable town (Guaymas) then their schooling ends there.
The divers dress in patchwork wetsuits and use "hookah" rigs to breathe. This consists of a compressor with a long hose with a regulator at the end to supply air below water. It is usually powered by a stinky 2-stroke Briggs and Stratton engine, the exhaust for which is usually located beside the intake for the air compressor. The boats that are used are of very dubious seaworthiness. Needless to say, we saw very few old men in the village. For all that, people are friendly and welcoming (a cliche to us rich gringos, I know) , and there are about half a dozen seafood restaurants in a town of what appears to be maybe 200 people. It is a summer destination for middle-class Guaymans, many of whom have lots in the village with summer cottages ranging from very trim adobe homes to decrepit campers set upon milk crates and cinder blocks. It appears that many families live in spaces not much bigger than our camper van.
The sea is a bit cold to be swimming in and the weather took a turn for the cooler while we were there. It actually rained on us for a bit, which is notable in the Sonoran desert! There is an amazing amount of wildlife here. Cormorants, gulls and albatross on the water, sandpipers at its edge, and immense condors over land. The boys discovered a nearly complete skeleton of some large cat on the beach, bigger than a bobcat. Javelinas and coyotes occupy the desert along with some feral horses. Ad of course, many gringos along the beach.
That in itself is a strange culture. The boondockers come from all over- Alberta, BC, Saskatchewan, and all over the US. Most have sizeable rigs, but a healthy number of car campers as well. Liz mentioned Helmut and his wife from Massachussets, who chose San Carlos specifically so he could kiteboard all winter. All of the boondockers are immensely pleased with themselves to be living rent-free, which I admit was a novelty for us at first, too. It quickly wore off though, and basic necessities like drinking water, electricity and food became an issue for us. I walked about 2 kilometers to get water, and the return trip with a 5 gallon bottle strapped to my back in the heat of the day was a lesson in Sisyphean tolerance. We broke out the solar shower when three days of "au naturel" BO became intolerable. So now we know what we are capable of, but also what we desire as a minimum for comfort. It is good to have established both so early in the trip.
-Remy
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So after establishing the level of BO tolerance have you found yourselves at a natural spring or a super natural hacienda? I just wrote you an email, and then remembered the blog. What a nostalgic read, being that you are following a very familiar quest for warmth, realization that altitude is altitude and generally brings cold, Nogalez and it's inherent 'colour', although my tie dyed shirt an VW did cause a delay in crossing both ways, and ultimately the first toe dip in the ocean! It is indeed a study in dichotomy when walking through some of those villages that have been 'discovered' by gringo's. Even in my VW, state of questionable solvency, and bare feet, I was still viewed with both envy and a dollar sign on my forehead.
ReplyDeleteIt was great to catch up; the boys tell a good tale!
Take care Tompkins - talk to you soon!
XO Margie