Category: Travel

Keeping Her in the Ditch: Part Three

Leigh, Travel

The following is a recap of our cruise from Rockport to Kemah, Texas via the ICW. If you missed day two you can catch up on that here.

We awoke early at Matagorda Bay, and we weren’t the only ones cutting lines in the half-light. It made for a pretty scene as we cruised our way back into the ICW.

Sunrises on the water are incredible, and we were blessed with another gorgeous one on day two.

We took turns at the wheel and planned our day. There was another set of locks, and we’d need to plan a fuel stop somewhere along the way. We’d kept tabs on how much we were burning, and it was possible for us to make it to Kemah on the same tank, but it wasn’t a sure bet.

The next set of locks went pretty smoothly. At this stop we heard more chatter on the radio, and we let everyone know who and where we were. The lock master coordinated with the other boats in the area, and they even let us move ahead in the line.

Have you heard of Chocolate Bay? It’s probably named for the color of the water, but just it case it was a suggestion, I took the hint.

It was getting later in the afternoon and we decided to plan a fuel stop, and used our chart plotter to look ahead. Our first choice was right on the way, but they weren’t answering the phone, so we sorted out a few back ups. They’d be a bit more out of the way, but would work in a pinch. We headed for option number one, knowing they could just be busy with customers and away from the office. The way in was narrow and shallow. We motored along for about twenty minutes before we spotted another boat. The passengers confirmed the fuel station wasn’t open, so we flipped around to head back into the open water.

Another place finally answered the phone and agreed to stay open for us, as long as we were buying at least 50 gallons. No problem. The Bow Out holds at least 200. That was the good news, but the bad news was they were near Galveston, and about an hour out of the way. We took a right by the bridge and followed the channel markers, but ran aground in a shoaling area. We didn’t come to an abrupt stop, but the sound of oyster shells scraping the bottom had us all picturing what might be going on below. We put that out of our minds as we pulled up to the marina and got filled up with fuel.

It’s strange how one boat can seem both big and small. The Bow Out is 40 feet long, but it felt like a battleship when pulling into the marina and sliding up between boats to reach the dock. The same boat in the channel felt the size of a bar of soap.

We thanked our new friends and headed back into the ICW. The entire route is a busy thoroughfare for barge traffic, and it wasn’t uncommon to see something like this cruising right beside us. It made for difficult steering, as vessels this size create strange currents, and I could feel the Bow Out being sucked in sideways. I gladly handed the wheel over to Edgar when this happened during my shifts.

With the sun setting, a little concern set in as well, as I realized we had a couple more hours to go, and no spotlights on the boat. We’d all planned to be back at work on Monday morning. We also didn’t have another place to stay, so we’d have to drop anchor and be out of the way of passing ships, a solution that didn’t seem ideal as there were no good anchorage options along the way. We decided to keep on.

As we entered the Houston Ship Channel, we first tried to avoid the traffic by staying just outside the channel markers, using our depth finder and chart plotter to look for any obstacles. Trouble was, we were finding out the chart wasn’t completely accurate, and we spotted some obstructions with the naked eye just in time. We decided to move into the channel and stay a comfortable distance behind the ship in front of us, confident that his electronics would be more sophisticated that our own.

The initial turn toward Kemah wasn’t hard to spot, because we could see the lights of the carnival rides from the water. But once we brought the bow in that direction, it was very difficult to see the red and green channel markers in the dark. Edgar kept his eyes peeled from the captain’s wheel, while I gazed out one side and Kate the other. We shouted to each other as we spotted marker after marker just in the nick of time. To make things even more interesting, our iPad was running out of juice. The 12 volt on the boat wasn’t quite 12 volt, and the iPad was smart enough to know it. It was dying, and along with it, our electronic visual on the route.

We scrambled up top to the fly bridge in hopes of a better view. We planted our feet wide; I downloaded the app on my phone, and as Edgar steered, I held the small screen in front of him. From up there we spotted what we thought were channel markers, and headed in toward the boardwalk. As we got closer we could see it was the right path, and we were all smiles as we celebrated along with the music blaring from the rides and nearby restaurants.

I’m not exactly sure how we navigated the final twists and turns, or how Edgar found his slip in the dark. The next thing we knew he was turning us around to park “bow out” – after all, that’s her name. It was late, but we were giggling with excitement and adrenaline. We’d cleared the locks, admired the dolphins, made friends at a fuel station and navigated the Houston Ship Channel at night. It wasn’t exactly as we planned it, but it was a success, and a true nautical adventure.

Keeping Her in the Ditch: Part Two

Leigh, Travel

The following is part two of our cruise from Rockport to Kemah, Texas via the ICW. If you missed part one you can catch up on that here.

Morning came with butterflies of excitement. We made some last-minute checks and cut our lines loose. The sunrise was beautiful and we pulled away from Rockport excited about the day ahead.

Just a few hours into the morning, we had company. A group of dolphins decided to go surfing in our wake, and I could not stop smiling at the sight.

We had other company as well. Huge barges passed us every so often, sometimes filled with products and sometimes looking lighter on a return run. We heard some of them on the radio and spoke to some, but it soon became clear they weren’t used to speaking to pleasure boats and we trailed off communication. They weren’t rude; it just seemed like they didn’t know why were were calling out to them.

Just an hour or two into the journey, we could tell something wasn’t right. Edgar was at the wheel and not getting the response out of the engine like we had been, and there was a smell in the air…

We rushed to get out of traffic, dropped anchor and flung open the floor panels to expose the engine room. As we did, a big white cloud filled the cabin. We’d blown a radiator hose. We gave it a couple minutes to cool down and then added several bottles of water. Edgar worked his magic and we got ready to get back on track. It was a delay in an already tight schedule, and we had a lot more (watery) ground to cover.

It was smooth sailing for a while, and then we hit San Antonio Bay. The wind was whipping so hard, it made it difficult to keep the bow pointed in the right direction, and we had to stand with our feet at least shoulders’ width distance apart to keep our balance. We knew we were slipping behind schedule, but we had no choice but to ease off the throttle as we bounced our way across the chop.

Just on the other side of San Antonio bay, the wind died down and we passed several peaceful neighborhoods, like this one in Calhoun. Happy to have the rough seas temporarily behind us, I celebrated my newfound skill of boat-steering with a break… and a pb&j.

Later that afternoon, it was time to go through our first locks. We’d looked ahead on the schedule and saw that they were running, so when we got close we started listening to the traffic and getting a better idea of how it went down. We called ahead to the lock master and let him know we were coming, and he gave us the instructions to wait a few minutes until he could get another vessel through. When it was our turn he asked us to come through and then go to the right to wait another minute before going to the other side. We did, and found ourselves in the shallows. The Bow Out drafts four feet, so we needed five feet of water to cruise through. We made that right turn and ended up in four feet or less… and stuck. Edgar wasn’t too worried, since he knew he could twist his way off, and that the ship coming by would also give us a wake and help us move, but it didn’t erase our concern about what we were doing to our fresh paint job below.

When it was our turn to move we told the lock master it would take a second. “Oh yeah, I forgot to tell you it’s shallow over there.” Yeah, we see that. We wiggled off without too much trouble and continued on our way.

About 7pm we found ourselves in Matagorda, which was not quite the halfway point, but we knew there was a marina with facilities, and they turned out to be very nice. The guy running the place even let us borrow a power adapter so we could plug in for the night, and get a charge on our iPad, which we were using for the navigation app. It felt good to have a shower and a meal on land, and a little funny to be walking around on solid earth.

We settled in for the night, knowing we’d have a long day in store. Our hope was to make Kemah by dusk, and we’d need to be up and moving early to do it.

On day three we watch our fuel tank drop to an uncomfortable level, and make a risky run through one of the busiest ship channels in the country.

Keeping Her in the Ditch

Leigh, Travel

So there we were, in the middle of the Houston ship channel, coming on dark and with only running lights on our vessel. Huge barges, ships and tugs surged by on our starboard side, and all I could think about was… Do they see us?

Fresh off our adventure down to Sayulita, we had another one in the works. Edgar has always wanted to live on a boat, and he’d been walking by this particular one for months. It was docked at a marina not far from where he was living, so he often passed it and commented, “That’s a really nice boat.” The idea took hold and even though there was no for sale sign on the Bow Out, he decided to do some investigating. The harbor master at the marina said he knew the owner, and that the man did want to sell it. Edgar got his information, arranged a meeting, took a tour, and a fair price was found. The Bow Out sold, as she was and where she was, and a new adventure began to take shape.

Edgar’s job was moving to another city, and the idea was that the boat would move with it. We’d spend some time fixing her up in Rockport, Texas, and then spend a long weekend cruising to Kemah, just outside of Houston.

For several weekends we cleaned and took stock…spent time in the engine room and cleaned some more. The prior owner had lived on the boat for eight years, and left a lot of stuff behind, so it seemed every time we opened a cabinet or drawer, we were met with a new stash of boat parts. I was holding up a lot of mysterious items and saying, “Does this look important?” or “Do we need an extra one of these?”

Our first attempt to move her ran into snag when we put her in reverse. There was a strange noise and then…nothing. She wouldn’t go. We eased her back into the slip and Edgar dove down for a better look.

It was the propeller key, which had slipped out and allowed the wheel to turn freely on the shaft. One of our new neighbors at the marina was a retired machinist and was able to give us a piece of stock, which had to be shaped, and then Edgar made another dive to put the propeller back on, and the key in its slot.

When a local shipyard could take her, we motored two hours to get her pulled out of the water and get a good look at the bottom. The barnacles needed to be scraped off, the blisters repaired, the propeller addressed, through holes replaced, new zincs installed, and a fresh coat of paint applied. We stood back with our hands on our hips and declared her ready. It was time to head into the Intercostal Waterway… known locally as, “The Ditch”.

The ICW runs for 3,000 miles and includes wide open sections in broad bays and other areas where you need to mind your depth finder or you will find yourself run aground. We got maps and downloaded a chart-plotting app to help us find our way. We estimated we’d average about 8 knots per hour, and that it would take the entire weekend to get there, especially since we didn’t have spotlights on the boat, and weren’t planning to travel at night. We spotted some marinas along the way, and planned to stay in Matagorda the first night. There were a lot of unknowns. This was our maiden voyage on the Bow Out, other than the short trip to move it from the marina where we bought it, to the shipyard. We’d done a bunch of checking in the engine room, but weren’t sure if other problems would emerge on a longer journey. We filled up on fuel and snacks and picked up Kate at the airport… she flew in especially to be a part of the adventure. We got a good night’s rest so we could leave at first light.

On the first big day of our adventure, we were greeted by some surprise visitors, and faced our first locks of the journey. Check back in tomorrow for the next installment.

Surfboard Run: Day Eight

Leigh, surf, Surfing, Travel

The following is a recap of Day Eight of our surfboard run from Houston, Texas to Sayulita, Mexico. If you missed Day Seven you can catch up on that here.

We wandered into the lobby of the hotel for breakfast, and were pleasantly surprised to find it wasn’t a buffet but cook to order. We made our selections and enjoyed our last morning of the trip.

It took some zipping and zagging out of Monterey traffic to make it back on the toll road, or cuota . We were only a few hours from the border, and the morning slipped by without incident. Soon we saw the long lines and guards that signaled the border crossing. The other giveaway was the gobs of people on foot, weaving through traffic and selling everything under the sun. Before you leave Mexico, you can pick up a sombrero, statue of the Virgin Mary, stuffed animals, blankets and all manner of drinks and snacks.

We no gracias’ed our way to the front of the line. There was a brief discussion with the agent about where we’d been and where we were headed, and then we were directed across and into the United States.

Our destination was Houston, but we made a quick stop in Rockport. Edgar had purchased this 40-foot Defever trawler and was doing some work on it while it was on the hard stand. That seemed to be going well, and it wouldn’t be long before it was ready for its journey out of Rockport, into the Intercostal Waterway and all the way to the Houston ship channel. But that’s another story for another post….

Surfboard Run: Day Seven

Leigh, surf, Surfing, Travel

The following is a recap of Day Seven of our surfboard run from Houston, Texas to Sayulita, Mexico. If you missed Day Six you can catch up on that here.

We kept a fire going all night long and stayed nice and toasty under our wool blankets. In the morning we got a tour of the rest of the property from one of the employees. Simon and his two children walked us down to the rope bridge, which Kevin had told us about in our previous visit. This time, we had a demonstration. Simon carefully climbed on the rope to show us how it was done… slowly working his way across the water and to the other shore. It looked very challenging, and Simon clearly did not expect any of us to even attempt it, but Edgar decided to give it a try.

No one else was feeling strong enough to jump at that challenge, so we thanked Simon and packed up our rig to head down the road for a tank of gas and a bite to eat.

Breakfast!

Edgar and Marie had tacos from a roadside stand, while I visited the horses in a nearby field. My stomach wasn’t quite ready for tacos, but I am always ready for a little neck scratching. Our morning complete, we headed on to Monterrey. The traffic in this city is ridiculous! It took some fancy navigating and map searching, but we finally found a hotel at a reasonable rate and checked in. We thought we’d order pizza instead of venturing out again, but didn’t think our limited Spanish vocabulary would cut it over the phone. We went back to the desk to ask the clerk for help. She was happy to call it in, and we enjoyed the veggie and meat lovers options.

We brought the leftovers to our new friend at the desk.

Our road trip across Mexico was nearly complete. Day eight would see us head for the border crossing, where all manner of items are on sale, from sombreros to Virgin Marys, and on to a new project on the gulf.

Surfboard Run: Day Six

Leigh, surf, Surfing, Travel

The following is a recap of Day Six of our surfboard run from Houston, Texas to Sayulita, Mexico. If you missed Day Five you can catch up on that here.

Marie and I had good yoga intentions, but I was up all night with some wicked food poisoning and finally got some sleep around 6am. Marie accompanied Edgar to the beach instead while I rested. After the morning surf session we met back up for coffee at Chocobanana, a Sayulita staple. The tables were busy and a local musician entertained everyone with a few Coldplay and Pearl Jam tunes.

Actual musician not pictured, but I bet these two are phenomenal.

It was time to hit the road for the long drive home, so we returned the board Edgar had been using, back to Casa Aves. The drive back toward El Salto was peppered with multiple tolls, some official and some not, and we repeatedly dug into our cuota stash, tucked into a plastic cup in the console.

Here’s another interesting thing about the Mexican roads: vehicles pass in the middle. Really. In a lot of spots, there are two lanes, one in each direction, and huge trucks will pass in the middle. This is as normal as getting leche in your coffee. Other drivers will do their best to scoot over and let them by.

One of my favorite things to do on road trips is to try the local snacks, so wherever we stopped we purchased a few things with little knowledge as to what they were. Most were very good…. and we snacked on candy, nuts, cookies and all sorts of things as we traveled.

We weren’t sure how the timing would work out, but it ended up just perfect for us to stop by to see Kevin again, and to rent one of his big cabins, which had all the comforts of home, including a kitchen and cozy fireplace. (Cabañas “El Arroyo del Agua” on Facebook.) He helped us gather firewood and we got enough to last the night. The temperature difference between the beach in Sayulita and the air up in the mountains was dramatic. We were grateful to see a large stack of wool blankets in each room.

Once we dropped off our things, we headed into the city to find a cash machine and a restaurant. The latter was no problem, but the cash was tricky. We finally spotted an ATM but it had a line outside. Sayulita folks are used to seeing Americans, but in this town, not so much. We drew some curious looks as we waited our turn, and then again when we entered a small family restaurant for a bite. The manager or owner’s kids were all helping to wait tables while doing homework, and they kept looking over and giggling at us. I felt like we were the talk of El Salto.

This super-sized Sprite tasted amazing.

Back at the cabin we settled in to do our own giggling at an Adam Sandler movie dubbed over in Spanish, and eventually turned in.

On day seven, it was time for the feats of strength! Who among us would be brave enough to try the bridge made of rope, and would they make it to the other side?

Surfboard Run: Day Five

Leigh, surf, Surfing, Travel, Yoga

This is a recap of day five of our surfboard run from Houston, Texas to Sayulita, Mexico. If you missed day four, you can catch up here.

Day five began with leftover pizza for breakfast. We made quick work of that and made tracks for the beach. Edgar surfed the Sayulita break while I practiced yoga. I played around with handstands against a mural wall, and toyed with foot placement and shoulder activation. Our morning exercise complete, we walked a few streets into town and got coffee at a new place. New businesses are popping up all over town… restaurants, coffee shops, yoga studios and B & Bs. While we were walking around and taking note of the new spots, we found a barbershop, and Edgar decided to get a hair cut.

Not long after the scissors came out, another man came into the shop and had a heated discussion with the barber. He then went to a work station and began to pick up products and tools and put them in a bag. The barber working on Edgar’s hair didn’t seem to like that, and some more angry words and gestures were exchanged. Then the barber opened up the angry guy’s bag, and took some of the product back out, clearly claiming it belonged to the shop. Things were beginning to get uncomfortable so Edgar spoke up and asked if they could possibly settle the matter later, perhaps when scissors and razors were not so close at hand. They agreed and the angry guy left, and Edgar got a nice haircut. A boy of about eight came into the shop while we were there. He had a little money — it appeared he’d made it selling trinkets in the square. Edgar and the barber agreed to split the cost of his cut so he could keep his earnings.

Angry guy is packing up his work station in the background.

Another one of the new shops is a little less formal, but a lot more tasty. This guy set up a candy store just off one of the main streets. We struck up a conversation to see what he had, and he offered some free samples of the candied nuts. We purchased several varieties to take with us as snacks for the ride to the airport. Edgar’s youngest daughter Marie was making the drive back with us, and we needed to fetch her from Puerto Vallarta.

Don’t ask me what they are exactly, but they’re good.

We had to again switch hotels, since they were out of rooms, and we moved into a place just a five minute walk away. We didn’t have a bunch of time, so I walked across the street to get fish tacos, while Edgar got our stuff to the rooms.
You can’t drive past a surf break without at least having a look, so we took the scenic route toward the airport and stopped by Punta Mita. There wasn’t much to it so we kept on.

We also had another mission in mind. Casa Aves has had a table and chairs outside on the bodega since we’ve owned it, but the seats just aren’t comfortable. Several furniture stores line the way to the airport and we stopped at a handful, but didn’t see exactly what we wanted… at least, not for a good price.

The PV airport stays pretty busy, so we camped out in the stream of arrivals and kept a keen eye out for Marie. At only 18 years old, she’s already well-traveled and quite accustomed to this particular route. While we were keeping our eyes peeled for her, a familiar face appeared. Our friend and sometimes driver, Espie, was at the airport and we chatted for a moment about family, business and how things were going for him in general. Seeing people you know at an airport in Mexico, reminds us of how small the world is, and how much this section of it feels more and more like home.

After we grabbed Marie, we headed back to Sayulita and went for another stroll on the beach. There are always vendors walking up and down the beach and offering something. This time we ran into a guy selling Mexican blankets. We had seen them before, but this guy quoted a price we couldn’t pass up, and we wound up with a really nice blanket.

On our way back through the square we saw a group of little boys skateboarding, and showing off their tricks. We watched for a while and then Edgar asked if he could have a turn. They thought that was kinda funny but gave him a board. He skated for a bit and then said, “Wow! Why are your wheels and trucks so loose?”

“Because we’re surfers,” came the reply.

Little skater/surfer making it look easy


We had agreed to meet up with our house host for dinner. A local artist, who came to Sayulita by way of Italy, stays at Casa Aves year-round, keeps the house nice and is a great resource for guests. We met at Don Juan’s just up the street from Aves and shared a meal and good conversation. After dinner we went for another walk, and then turned in for the night. One of us planned to surf in the morning, while the other two had their eyes on a yoga class.

Surfboard Run: Day Four

Leigh, surf, Surfing, Travel, Yoga

This is a recap of day four of our surfboard run from Houston, Texas to Sayulita, Mexico. If you missed day three, you can catch up here.

On day four we decided to soak in the view a little longer, and have breakfast by the water. We ordered lattes and shared this plate of pancakes with fruit. It was as delicious as it looks.

We could have spent the day there just enjoying the view, but we also wanted to get to Sayulita and maybe find a wave. Sayulita has grown as well, in the 3-4 years we’ve been visiting. The official population is about 5,000, but there were tons of people in the streets and walking around the town square. We stopped off at Casa Aves to drop off the boards, but we were unable to stay as a nice family from Canada was renting the place for the week. Instead, we booked another place in town and then hit “Wild Mex” a coffee/surf shop across from a local break. They’ve expanded too, going from just a coffee stand, to a restaurant with lots of tables and open air seating.

The break, called “Burrows”, was pretty busy but we found our spots… Edgar hit the lineup and I headed down the beach where it was smaller and less crowded. I was comfortable in my shorty (wetsuit that comes to the knee) – the water temperature was on the way up but not bath water yet. We caught some rays and nice waves and enjoyed the beach.
We always seem to be starving after a surf session so we hit the showers then hit one of our favorite beach-side restaurants for Mexican pizza. People were still surfing the beach break, wringing every bit of swell out of the day.

Sayulita has a square where people are usually lounging or snacking, or just watching others go by. This visit we noticed a new selfie opportunity. New letters have been added to the square for pictures and there are no shortage of models.

There are a couple of places in Sayulita that serve ice cream and we’re quite familiar. We got our treat and then enjoyed an evening stroll. We spotted the guy who offers folks a seat on his burros for a small fee. He only had one long-eared friend when we first saw him; now he has three. Business is booming, and more and more visitors are enjoying Sayulita’s charm.

Surfboard Run: Day Three

Leigh, surf, Travel

This is a recap of day three of our surfboard run from Houston, Texas to Sayulita, Mexico. If you missed our run-in with the cartel on day two, you can read about it here.

Day three began with free breakfast at the restaurant next to our hotel. We carried on an animated conversation with the waitress, her side all in Spanish and ours mostly in English. She was sweet and trying to help us, but looked around the restaurant a few times, obviously looking for a coworker who spoke English. We understood each other well enough to settle on eggs, beans and bacon, and a dish we didn’t recognize, but ended up being green sauce over tortillas and very good.

Even if you’ve never traveled to Durango, you’ve likely seen pieces of it. It was a big destination for the film industry beginning back in the 1950s. The vast desert and cheap labor drew many productions to this Hollywood of the South, and there are ribbons of super-sized film above the main drag as a reminder. According to a 2003 article in the Washington Post, John Wayne, Clark Gable, Rock Hudson and Rita Hayworth all shot movies in Durango.

We wanted to stay longer to explore, but we had set our sights on checking out the big fish of El Salto. If the internet could be trusted, this town in the middle of no where had some of the best large-mouthed bass fishing in the world. We couldn’t drive this close and not just have a look, so we headed in that direction.

The tricky part is, we couldn’t tell exactly where it was. We stopped just shy of the city at a gas station, and wandered in. There was a woman working the register, and a couple other folks having a snack. We used our rough Spanish to ask where we could find the pescado with the grande boca. They pointed and gave us directions, but it seemed to be for another place where we could stop and ask. We admired her bottle of tequila with a large scorpion inside of it, which was then offered, no gracias, and we hit the road in the direction we were given.


A few miles down the road we found a turnoff for a camp site that looked promising. The first resident we encountered was an old man who was deep into a rock-painting project, and being monitored by a friendly dog that looked part lab, part pyraness. The painter didn’t know about the fish and sent us up to the office. The girl inside said they had fish there but they were very small. She showed us with her fingers. She said she’d get her husband who spoke English. Kevin spoke perfect English, having grown up in Arizona. He showed us around the fish farm, where they were raising trout. These were not the trophy bass we were after, but were interesting to see anyway, and Kevin and his wife were very nice and obviously proud of the place. Kevin said what people come to do here the most is relax but sometimes they also walk the bridge made of rope and make bets on how far their friends will go.

We got some information about the cabins and made tentative plans to return on our way home. Our fish search had to be set aside as well, since our goal was to stay in Chacala that night.

On a previous trip, a local had told Edgar about a secret wave south of San Blas. We had that on our minds as we made our way toward the coast, and caught our first glimpse of the Pacific Ocean.

We got on the road to the secret break, passed by the outdoor restaurants and pack of stray dogs and rumbled through the jungle a bit. The swell turned out to be small, so we moved on to Chacala.

This is the “road” to the secret surf break.

Chacala has exploded in the past couple years. There were more tourists on the streets than we’ve ever seen before. We found a hotel with rooms available, and made friends with the clerk’s daughter Alice, who was about three and lugging around a baby doll. She and her father helped us find a place to park, and then we walked to a beachside restaurant for dinner.

Nearby La Cruz is a popular starting point for sailboats making long trips across the ocean, so we saw many bobbing around just off the beach. We dined on shrimp (Chacala translates to “where there are shrimp”) with avocado and chips and guacamole, and then went to bed dreaming of waves.

On day four, we finally pull into the driveway of Casa Aves, only to realize we can’t stay.

Surfboard Run: Day two

Leigh, Surfing, Travel

This is the story of our surfboard run down to Mexico. If you missed day one you can read about it here.

Our hotel had free breakfast, so we dined on biscuits, eggs, sausage and potatoes and then hit the road for the border. The line was long coming out of Mexico, but going in was a breeze. We cruised right through and were so pleased with our progress we missed the turn for car permits, a critical stop before going on into the country.

The turn was tricky. We knew we needed to be in the far left lane, but it appeared to have traffic going only in the other direction, away from the car permit place. We made the turn and found ourselves on the wrong path, headed to the checkpoint back into the United States, and right into the lanes jammed with traffic. A concrete wall was to our right, so we couldn’t swerve over into the appropriate lane. We slowed as we considered our options, and saw a man in a yellow vest motioning to us on the side of the road. Our official position is that Edgar and I don’t speak Spanish, but I must say I was considerably impressed when after a quick back and forth with the man Edgar said, “This guy will let us in for twenty bucks.” I did understand when the man shrugged in that “what can you do” sort of way, and explained it wasn’t his doing, it was the jefe. Uh huh.

We were in no mood to argue, having seen the line to go back into the states. We knew $20 was worth it, so we gladly paid our first mordida (“the bite” – i.e., everyone gets one) of the trip, and followed our new friend as he moved some orange barriers and let us cross an empty lot, and merge into the appropriate lane. The alleged “jefe” was a very quiet, older man, who didn’t give off the jefe vibe exactly, but hey, we were across, and headed to get our vehicle permit, so we got over it in a hurry.

The process of getting a car permit involves a number of steps, but if you plan ahead and have the right documents, you can follow the procedure and get it done. Part of that procedure is checking in when you leave the country, to cancel the permit. We had not done that when the Land Cruiser cruised on out of Mexico last year, so we were sent back outside, to go into another line to cancel our vehicle permit. Thankfully, that was a little drive-through area that came with no charge, and we ticked that box, peeled off our old sticker and got back in line. We showed our registration and title, and got our new sticker, good for 180 days in Mexico.

After a few minutes on the road, we had a need for a bathroom and a craving for a diet coke. Even though we knew better, we stopped at a gas station not too far from the border. As soon as we did, we were reminded why it’s not a good practice. A car pulled in next to us, and the passenger was making aggressive gestures before we even shut off the vehicle. He made an exaggerated motion to roll down the window. I didn’t see it at first, as I was busy counting out pesos for the diet coke. He made the motion again and Edgar gave him a hard look. The driver made a more gentle motion, and Edgar rolled down the window.

Passenger: (in English) “Where are you from?”

Edgar: “Where are YOU from?”

Passenger: “We’re from the cartel around here.”

It’s at this point that I made slow motion moves to slyly place the money I’d been counting under my seat.

I don’t know if you’re from the cartel, if you actually say you’re from the cartel, but clearly they had some sort of ill will in mind. Edgar didn’t say a word – just gave them another look like, “and..?” and the driver decided this wasn’t going to be worth the trouble. They tossed it in reverse and took off. A few seconds later we did the same. There was no sense sticking around at the border, when there were such nice places inside Mex to explore, and they were likely to have diet cokes as well.

We ticked off happy miles and not so happy tolls. You have two choices for most routes across Mexico: the toll road, or cuota, or the libre, the free road. The toll road has just that, tolls every so often. But it gets you to your destination a lot faster than the free road, and it’s better maintained, so if you’re not familiar with the area the toll road is the way to go. Just resign yourself to the fact that the tolls do add up. The amounts very from 30 to 270 pesos at each stop, so by the end of the trip we’d paid more than $200 USD in tolls.

Now, here’s another interesting note. Most of the toll plazas are manned by official-looking men and women in uniform, collecting a set amount listed on signs and digital displays. But in a few places, there are no uniformed staff, and the booth is manned by what appears to be locals from a nearby village. Dozens of people stand at the gate, and one is designated as the one to push out an orange barrel, usually on a rope, to stop the approaching vehicle. Another, usually a young girl, is enlisted to step forward and ask for the toll. The amount seemed a little arbitrary. At one stop the girl asked for cincuenta pesos – 50. When Edgar asked again how much, she said ciento – 100. He corrected her that she had just said 50, and she looked back at the group, unsure. An older man stepped forward and immediately showed off his conversational English, “What’s the problem, man?” Edgar explained there was a discrepancy with where we landed on the toll amount. He told the girl that 50 would be fine and we paid and went on our way.

More miles, more tolls. Beautiful country. We snacked on oranges from our pack, and offered some to the attendant when we got gas. All the gas stations are full service, so we learned and practiced the words for “fill it up!”

At one of the stops I had to visit the bano, and was about to let the attendant know they were out of toilet paper, when I remembered the fee. A lot of places charge you to use the restroom, and I found this contraption at the entrance. I gladly put in my 5 pesos and hurried back inside.

We made good time to Torreón so decided to push on to Durango. We arrived in town around 8pm, or what we thought was the town, but we more on the outskirts. We found a gated hotel and got checked in. The place next door served us a delicious meal of shrimp and boneless wings, and we saved room for an incredible apple crisp dessert. There were turtles at the restaurant, and I’m assuming they feed the turtles instead of feeding the turtles to guests, by the way they all swam over to me when I visited.

On day three we left Durango in search of El Salto, and the tales of a world-class bass fishing village. You don’t want to miss our efforts to communicate this to random gas station attendants and customers.