The second vehicle featured in our “Rides Around” series is a VW combie van with an interesting story and a fantastic paint job. I was at a little surf spot just southeast of Corpus Christi, Texas, when I spotted this creation pulled up on the sand.
Before paddling out, I introduced myself to the driver, a bit of a surfing icon, and the father of an exceptional woman who was passionate about making a change and actively doing so through her “social project “. It is called “Rekombinado” and can be read about here. It is an educational mission based out of the van, and takes place en route from Brazil to Northern California.
I spent a few minutes discussing the van, its travels, and function w/ the gentleman in the driver’s seat before paddling out.
During my session, I contemplated purpose and passion and priorities. I thought of how I choose to spend my time, and where I burn the most calories. It was a bit of a self check-up that I passed w/ some ideas for improvement.
As I was wading back in from my surf, and wrapping my leash up on the tail of my board, the combie was pulling off into the setting sun. It was undoubtedly headed out to continue its mission of education and love.
Funny how chance encounters can impact lives…
The Rig: VW Combie Van
The Location: Packery Channel, Texas
The Driver: a surfing icon named Joao
The Special Circumstances: an amazing encounter during a Tuesday after work surf session
Note: This is a recap of Day Nine of our journey driving a ’68 bug from Sacramento, CA to Sayulita, Mexico. You can catch up on day eight here.
The most surprising aspect of the ferry ride was the timing. We had given ourselves plenty of wiggle room, because we didn’t know if it would leave or arrive on time. It did both. We cruised into Mazatlan right before 9am, and everyone lined up in an orderly fashion to disembark. I joined the exit line, rushed back to return the borrowed movies and remote control, then joined the line again while Edgar went down below to fire up the bug.
I walked off the ramp and met Edgar in the parking lot, where he was holding our exhaust pipe. He’d lightly tapped a truck during the unloading process, and it was enough to cause the pipe to break off. Once again our jar of bungees came in handy, and we headed off toward Sayulita with the pipe carefully fixed to the roof rack, while keeping a careful eye out for a welding shop.
At lunch time we found a nice little place right on the water just south of San Blas, selling shrimp and cheese empanadas and the now standard coca lites. While we wrapped up the meal, we asked around about a nearby break called Stoners. No one at the restaurant knew what we were talking about, so we went off-roading again. We found some pretty beaches, but no swell.
We’d spent enough time in Nayarit to know where the swell is located there, so we got back on the pavement and headed in that direction. In La Cruz we spotted what looked like a welding shop, and quickly turned in. We used our spanish and a lot of demonstrative movements to explain the problem, and one of the workers said the magic words, “no problem”. He brought out the torch, and waved off Edgar’s suggestion of a helmet. A few moments and pesos later, the pipe was once again married to the bug.
We were close to home, but had enough light to check out one of the local breaks, so we took a quick peek. Burrows wasn’t too exciting, but the pizza joint nearby had a live band. They sounded good and so did a slice of pizza, so we settled in to enjoy both.
After dinner, it was time to go home. Casa Aves has the perfect spot for the bug right out front. We spent time unloading boards and supplies, and giving the green meanie a little dust-off as a welcome home.
The next day, we grabbed a ride to the airport, and a much faster trip home.
Miles traveled on day 9: 245
The story doesn’t end here; it’s just the closing of this chapter. Thanks to everyone for following along and enjoying the recaps with us. It was a great adventure and we enjoyed sharing it with you. We’d love to hear your feedback and/or questions. What surprised you about the journey? Is there anything we didn’t cover that you really want to know? Have you, or would you want to, make a similar trek? Would you have joined Fibber McGee for dinner, or adopted a Mexican street puppy? Share in the comments and let’s keep the conversation going.
We’ve received some great feedback on the “Baja Down the Baja” posts. Thank you all for your comments, and for coming back week after week for the next day’s adventures. We’re working on the final leg of it now, and have some great information and pictures to share with you this weekend.
The comments on the TSY page and the Facebook page have given us good insight. This community enjoys interesting vehicles, and particularly Volkswagens. This was also extremely evident during our trip, as people would honk and hoot and photograph the bug as they saw us roll by them on the highway. So we’ve decided to feature a different rig weekly, and would love some participation from the tribe.
I’ll go first, but if you see a cool ride, please snap a photo and tell us about it. If you have a special connection to your personal mode of transportation, we’re interested in that story too. Maybe it has a name. Maybe you remember your first car, your dad’s truck, the plane that dropped you in the Amazon, or that bike you always wanted and finally got. It’s great to see how folks get around, and hear the stories behind the ride.
The first rig we want to feature is the “love bug”. We found this flowery ride cruising the streets of Bucerias in Nayarit, Mexico. It appeared to be a daily driver for the man behind the wheel, who was not afraid of expressing himself.
The Rig: 1960 something Beattle
The Location: the main drag of Bucerias, Nayarit
The Driver: a sensitive stranger
The Special Circumstances: We were in a bug, when we spotted this bug, and appreciated it along with a guy driving behind it, who was also… in a bug. Random VW parade.
Note: This is a recap of Day Eight of our journey driving a ’68 bug from Sacramento, CA to Sayulita, Mexico. You can catch up on day seven here.
Ferry day! This was the most unpredictable part of the trip. When we made our plans, the driving part had some wiggle room, but was overall pretty clear. The ferry leg wasn’t, and we were excited to see what it would bring.
In the morning we walked to a coffee shop for delicious coffee and cookies. The girl at the register told the guest ahead of us she worked 14 hour days. She must have put all that time into her recipe for blonde brownies, because it knocked our socks off. We spent a few minutes happily sipping coffee, shaking our heads and saying things like just how good is this brownie…
Once properly sugared up, we got back on the road and headed to surf Cerritos. It was a family-filled beach with a lot of kids getting up on big foam boards wearing baggy rash guards and grins from ear to ear.
We rented two boards – an egg for Edgar and a pink foam long board for me. We headed right out, and I promptly got clobbered on the first wave and banished myself to white water. Edgar paddled out and got into some better waves. We were glad we had wet suits, because the water was still pretty chilly.
After the quick surf session we headed for Cabo, intending to surf there too, but traffic was building and we didn’t want to risk missing the ferry. We gave Cabo a glance and turned back toward La Paz, stopping for some pizza and coca lites. I thought the restroom signs were hilariously clear.
They really gotta go!
The ferry guys put us back in line to be inspected and weighed, so note to readers, the dry run is not necessary. We had the same guys at the inspection and weigh stations as we did the day prior; the only difference this time was a fee after we were weighed. That seemed a little suspect, and we made a few noises in that direction, but in the end we paid it and got in line to drive on the boat.
Only one person was allowed to be in the vehicle during the loading process, so we split up and Edgar drove the bug on board, while I filed in with the other walk-ons in the passenger line. We met back up at reception and got escorted to our room. Bunk beds, bathroom and a separate living room area. Pretty snazzy!
Dinner was being served on the upper deck, so even though we weren’t all that hungry, we went up to check it out. It was kinda like the dining area on a cruise ship, but buffet style. We had chicken, tortillas and banana pudding for dessert.
Back in our room, we tried to watch TV but couldn’t get it to work, so I checked at the desk to see if they offered movies for rent. They did, at no cost, and they had some in English! We floated across the sea of Cortez while watching the epic struggle to climb Everest, then turned in. Edgar says he slept like a baby, but I had a bit of a hard time with the rock of the boat, and doors nearby opening and closing.
Miles traveled on day eight: 250 by road and 260 by boat.
TSY is always looking for people who want to share their adventures, yoga practice or surf sessions with us. We ran across Kim’s photos and enjoy what she has to say about yoga’s benefits for the mind and body. If you want to see more gorgeous pictures, check out her teaching schedule or just find out how she feels about non-dairy ice cream, head on over to Kim’s site.
“Practicing self-love daily is the key to happiness and success; when you love yourself and your journey, you cannot fail.”
Note: This is a recap of Day Seven of our journey driving a ’68 bug from Sacramento, CA to Sayulita, Mexico. You can catch up on day six here.
Our search for coffee in La Paz took us to a shop just a block away from the hotel, with Shakespeare quotes on the wall. We enjoyed our flat white and mocha outside, next to the Sea of Cortez, and took a few moments to catch up on some work. Then it was time for the big event of the day: getting ferry tickets.
When we mapped out our trip, we knew we needed to catch a ferry ride from La Paz over to Mazatlan, and main land Mexico. We found some information online, but we weren’t 100% sure on the details. Did it only go to Mazatlan on weekdays? Was the Saturday trip just to Topolobampo? (Still need a pronouncer on that one but it’s fun to try!) How quickly would it fill up?
Finding the ferry dock wasn’t too tricky, and we asked the man directing traffic where we needed to go to get a ticket. He motioned to the building and parking lot. We parked, walked inside, and took a number for the ticket counter. The office was filled with what appeared to be local families, on their way to or back from vacation. I’m pretty sure we were the only Americans driving our ’68 bug across the country for kicks.
At our turn at the window, we learned we needed to be inspected and weighed first, before a ticket for the vehicle could be issued. We went back outside and got in line for that. The agent in our lane asked about our paperwork, which we had, and our VIN number, which we could not point out for him. I’m sure it’s on the car somewhere, but we had no idea where. After a few words of explanation, and absolutely no inspection, he waved us through to the scales.
The bug weighed in at around 1500 pounds. Back inside the building, we purchased two passenger and one vehicle ticket for the ferry the next day, and got instructions to show up two hours before departure.
Feeling confident about the next leg of the adventure, we headed off to celebrate with some waves at Todo Santos, which basically involved driving straight south to the Pacific side once again.
Lunch was on a nice patio in town, with two stray dogs snoozing nearby. Before we ate our meal, dessert arrived via a woman and her children, selling donuts for five pesos. We got two.
The key to burning off chocolate icing is paddling out, so we hit the surf shop in town to pick up a leash for one of our boards. The woman running the store was happy to sell us the leash, but cagey about the local breaks, clearly pretending not to know much about La Pastora, which we’d heard was amazing, and steering us more toward Cerritos. But we wouldn’t be detoured so easily, and double checked the online descriptions for La Pastora, which was rumored to be a good place to get barreled if you hit it on the right day. (To be clear, only one of us was looking for that sort of thing.)
The bug was a trooper and pressed on through all kinds of sand, brush and hills. Several times we spotted farms and fences, and surmised this might be La Pastora, only to walk down to a flat beach. Finally, around sunset, we saw an opening in the brush and turned off — there it was! The waves were once again no match for my skill level, so Edgar grabbed a few while I flowed on the beach.
Trust me, he’s out there.
When the sun went down, we headed to a hotel I had booked online, but when we got to the gate no one answered. There was a note and a giant bell to ring for the clerk. We gave it a couple pulls… nothing. Called the number…nothing. The neighbor came home and mentioned the desk kept “crazy hours” and that if we kept trying someone “might answer.” Rather than being stranded at dark in the street, we decided to press on into town and found the Maria Bonita. The young girls working the counter enjoyed some giggles at our Spanish, but they did have rooms available, and we had ourselves a place to rest. Dinner was sushi with a hot pepper Mexican twist…. an unexpected and tasty fushion!
Miles traveled on day seven: about 50 from La Paz to Todo Santos, plus a good amount of wandering in search of La Pastora.
On day eight: We watched the struggle to climb Everest while traveling through the night on the Sea of Cortez.
On this Memorial Day, we pause to remember those who fought for our country, so that we can enjoy the freedom and the beauty they helped to preserve.
“The trail ahead leads into wilderness. It is a place where wild plants and animals live out their daily lives, and where natural processes prevail. It is an area for people to be spiritually refreshed, and physically challenged. It is an area to enjoy. From our visits, we gain rich experiences, and memories, but in return we must remember to give this area another day of unspoiled wildness.”
Note: This is a recap of Day Six of our journey driving a ’68 bug from Sacramento, CA to Sayulita, Mexico. You can catch up on day five here.
The hotel offered breakfast, so we made the most of the coffee, fruit, and yogurt — the last made by the waitress herself, the night before. The morning was overcast and a little chilly, so we decided to see about getting some laundry done before heading to the beach. While at the hotel, we met a surfer named Chad from Colorado. We had a good chat about surfing, traveling and a little politics. He asked if he could use Edgar’s phone to email his wife and let her know he’s alive. He said he was in the middle of a three-week surfing pilgrimage, and that she allows this once every year. But, she does worry if she doesn’t hear from him, and he was only carrying a flip phone. We shared our technology and got the message through, then told him we’d see him at the beach.
Scorpion Bay has a reputation for being one of the best and longest waves in the world. If conditions are right, you can get on one, take a right, and just keep going. The bug got a warm welcome at the break, where Chad and some other folks were already parked and suiting up. A guy who introduced himself as Bubba, also from Colorado, couldn’t get enough of our Green Machine, and took several photos for the boys back home. He was doing the trip in a VW bus, and explained he belonged to a VW fan club. “They’ll love this!” he said with a big grin on his face, snapping photos like he was with the paparazzi. He also showed us the sticker he had on his bus, which celebrated the journey. It read, “I Survived the North Road!” I wanted one for the bug, but didn’t get around to finding the right shop.
The super clean lines were calling, so we waved to the guys and headed down a little ways to the next of the four points. The rocks and the swell were intimidating for me, so I took a flow on the beach while Edgar climbed down and paddled out. It was breaking clean, at waist to shoulder high, and he reported back that it was super fun.
The sun came and I had plenty of time to salute it repeatedly and then work on hand stands on the beach. I can only hold for a second or two, but it feels like forever. I’m always hesitant to practice on hard surfaces since I know I’ll tumble, but the soft sand was perfect and the bug was also kind enough to offer a steady assist.
As we got ready to leave, we ran into a Japanese surfer with a board tucked under his arm. He was so excited he was running for the beach. “I am at the end of my surfing trip,” he told us. “I think I will go to America and work some more, save up more money, until I have enough to go again.” Living the life.
We needed to get moving to stay on schedule for the ferry, but we wanted to stare at the lines a while longer so we grabbed some fish tacos at a beachside restaurant. While we waited for the food, I pet a tiny dog, who didn’t mind the interruption to his afternoon nap.
Then it was time. We put the bug in gear and headed for La Paz, about six hours away. The road was all pavement, and smooth-sailing, quite the change from our bumpy ride in. Even though we were cruising along with one headlight and two fog lights, we were greeted with quick waves and the “move along” motion at the checkpoints. We found the La Perla hotel for sixty USD, a safe place to sleep right by the water. When we pulled into the turnout for valet parking, the attendant said it was okay to just keep it right there. The workers all regarded our rig with a little smile on their faces.
We walked to a nearby Italian restaurant and ate sandwiches for dinner and watched people cruise down the main strip. For dessert we had cheesecake, which we thought was going to be carrot cake. We could tell the waitress wasn’t sure when we ordered, and when she delivered it she was looking sheepish. “My English is not so good,” she said. But that was okay because the cheesecake was.
You Are Here
Miles traveled on day six: 242 smooth ones on the best road so far
On day seven: We conducted a dry run for the ferry, and annoyed a surf shop owner who tried to lure us away from “her” waves.
We (as individuals) are responsible for our actions. That being said, we also own their knock on affects. Every action we have affects others, directly or indirectly. Simple physics, “for every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction.” The world around us is changed by our presence in it.
Pause, and consider the gravity….
Not too long, we do not want sucked into a black hole.
In construction there is a saying, “Today’s quality is tomorrow’s safety.” People that are building nuclear facilities say things like that, well..,we hope. We should all carefully consider the quality of our actions before executing them, because we are ultimately defined by our actions, not our sentiment. The road to hell was paved, by masons, w/ good intentions.
I am a hurricane survivor and so is my motorcycle. My motorcycle (a KLR 650) was nearly perfect before hurricane Harvey. It had 2300 miles on it and not a chip of beautiful orange paint was missing. When the system was spinning up into a cat 3, I decided I would be spending my hurricane days in Mexico (surfing). The storm shifted, so all of the Texas surf was going to be blown out by gale force on shore winds. No reason for me to stick around (and Mex was firing off), so I “secured” my things. As any (first world) natural disaster survivor knows, the best way to “secure” is to insure. (I should probably trademark that one.) I know that now, but pre-Harvey I didn’t. The bike was uninsured (liability) and unsecured, but physically I did what I could. I put it in a 7’x7′ Lowes plastic shed next to my 38′ 5th wheel and locked the door. This, my friends, is NOT secure. Harvey whipped up into a real nasty little creature, and I went surfing in Mexico. As I was traveling out of town, the storm started tracking more easterly (towards mi casa). Less than ideal.
Before leaving, I had the bike in the shed and next to the porch. I had several boards outside, and “secured” under the camper. I decided to up my level of security for the boards. I put 5 boards in my bathroom and shut the door. My longboard went in the shed w/ the bike.
When the storm blew through, it flopped my 5th wheel over and onto my shed, presumably crushing my beautiful, orange, uninsured, dual sport. Again, our actions dictate a lot of things, and some things we would/could never consider.
Texas is not known for surf. I tell people I surf in Texas and they ask, “is there a ocean in Texas?” I don’t get into the whole geography thing, and how Americans are notoriously poor at it, as are Australians, but I do mention that the Gulf of Mexico touches Texas.
Anyone who surfs the Gulf of Mexico appreciates longboards and their necessity. I got mine in Galveston (the stoke in this town is incredible). It was shaped by Mark Wooster. I bought the board off a used rack at a local place, and the shop owner bragged on Mark and his boards. He said that Mark took care in building a solid board. Quality. The shop owner was right, and Mark is a stand up guy.
When the storm knocked my 5th wheel onto the shed, the 5th wheel contacted the northwest corner of the shed first. That is where the elevated nose of my board was. As the shed crushed from the weight of the trailer, it rotated the board counter clockwise and lined the board up perpendicular to the shed, spanning over the bike like a joist carrying the trailer’s weight, and keeping it off the bike.
To the layman, it looked like a pile of crushed rubbish, but after some creative rigging and tow truck operator finesse, the bike was recovered virtually unscathed.
I dressed the bike out w/ panniers and a surfboard rack, and now it resides in Mexico. It is great transport, but every time I see it, my heart thanks Mark and his attention to detail. I am convinced, a lesser board would not have taken this load. The board did sustain some damage to its fin box, but is still rideable, and so is the KLR.
Thanks Mark. You do good work, and I appreciate that.
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