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?
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.
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.
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.
We’re taking a look at some of our favorite photos over the past few months. What’s in store for your next adventure? Whether you’re going across town or across the country, share it with us in the comments.
This is part two of the recap of our trip to Costa Rica. You can catch up on part one here.
La Fortuna was a little bigger and catered to tourists. Just about every street corner had a shop with supersized pictures of people zip lining, riding horses and jumping into waterfalls… and big signs advertising the best prices in town. We talked to a few and found out the horse ride wasn’t exactly what we’d hoped — it didn’t go to the volcano at all — and we decided to ride later in the week at our beach stop. But there was an option to hike to the top of a (dormant) volcano and swim in a crater at the top! A quick group conference confirmed we all thought that sounded amazing, so we signed up for the next day.
The climb up to the top of the volcano was no joke. It was hot and a bit more strenuous than we anticipated, but we all felt very accomplished to make it to the summit. When we reached the highest point, we met up with a group of German bodybuilding tourists, who tried to warn us in heavily-accented English about a big, long-nosed creature that came out of the woods and stole their bananas. I thought they were pulling our legs until they showed us the video one of them had captured on their phone. Sure enough, there was a banana-stealing creature confronting them. I wanted it to come back out so we could get a look, but guess it was off in the jungle enjoying its banana stash.
The water at the top was chilly. Some of us enjoyed a dip, while others enjoyed the leftover chicken we’d dragged up for a picnic. It didn’t take us very long to head back down, where we decided a proper swim was necessary. We’d passed some rushing water with a natural pool and a rope swing on our way to the hike, so we pulled over and got in. This was clearly the place where the locals came to cool off, and they welcomed us with big smiles. Edgar even got cheers and applause for his elaborate swing, tuck and dive off the rope.
With our waterfall and volcano boxes checked off, it was time to surf. We got on the road again, this time headed for the coast. On the way we saw a car pulled over and people feeding some sort of animal. I had to see what that was, so we pulled over too and saw a bunch of the banana thieves all together! They’re called coati or pizote, and even though they look a little like an opossum to me, they’re actually in the raccoon family. A family was there feeding them apple jacks.
It took us a few hours to reach Tamarindo, our destination for the next three days. The hostel where we stayed was across the street from a break, and it even had a surfboard rental place right out front. We walked into town and got some supplies for breakfast, and lined up our boards for the next day.
I don’t have beach pictures because we were all in the water and I didn’t want my phone to get stolen. Just imagine several pretty beaches with some of us catching waves, and some of us petting dogs or playing hacky sack.
I do have some shots of the open air kitchen where we made breakfast, and the contraption that gave us delicious coffee.
I know this is sounding like quite the animal-themed recap, but I couldn’t leave out one of my favorite activities. While Edgar checked out one more break, the girls and I took a two-hour horseback ride up into the mountains. I asked the guide if he thought we’d see monkeys, and he said maybe. But I think he over-estimated my desire because he kept doing little detours into more jungle and looking up, and then sadly saying, “Ohhh… no monkey…” There was a bit of a language barrier, but I tried to communicate that I was just curious, and would not be heartbroken if monkeys were not spotted. (They were not.)
We said goodbye to the beach on Thursday and drove back to San Jose. CR traffic can be a bear, and we didn’t want to be stressing out for our flight back to the states on Friday. All in all it was a great visit. Everyone got a little color, a little exercise and a lot of ice cream. Pura Vida. 🙂
The following is part one of a recap of our trip to Costa Rica. Stay tuned for part two next week!
The hardest part of our adventures isn’t the planning of the trip, or finding a place we know we’ll love, it’s deciding where to go! There are so many places to see and experiences to enjoy, but since Edgar and I had both been to Costa Rica before we met, we decided to go back together, along with his daughters.
Since we were coming from different places, we all met in Dallas and left for CR from there. The flight left bright and early at 6am. We had a layover in Florida, and arrived in San Jose around noon. We grabbed our rental car and hit the road, planning to check out a waterfall or two, and then a volcano, before turning in for the night.
The roads were decent and we didn’t have too much trouble finding the first stop. It was actually a little chilly because we were up in the mountains, and we were glad to have packed an extra layer. We dumped our things at the hotel and went out to explore.
The weather was… moist. It wasn’t exactly raining, but it wasn’t dry either. There was a sort of mist that hung around the place, which made it seem a little mysterious. We took a little hike around before dinner.
We asked the manager about a nearby waterfall and discovered it wasn’t far at all. It is a little tough to see here because of the mist and the fact that the sun was going down. We stuck our feet in (cold!) and Edgar even drank a little of it, in case it was the fountain of youth. (I assured him that’s in Florida, and I had a couple gulps when I was a kid.)
For dinner, we stopped at a French restaurant we’d spotted on our drive through “town”. It was strange to sit and have a (delicious) French meal, prepared by an eccentric French chef, in the middle of nowhere, Costa Rica. As we finished our dessert, we were greeted by a little cat who pawed at my leg and then jumped right in my lap! Word of my feline generosity has clearly spread far and wide.
The next morning we spotted a cow hanging out by herself, and the girls wanted to go say hello. They pet the cow for a while and then Edgar walked over and gave her the head scratching of her life. I didn’t know cows liked that but this one was really leaning into it. You’re welcome, cow. There were some others on the other side of the fence – you can kinda seem them to the upper left of the photo – and they came to the fence and made some noise. I think they were trying to say they had itchy chins too.
After breakfast and the petting of the livestock, it was time to hit the road. We wanted to check out the Arenal volcano, since we’d seen some pictures online and it looked like a good place to explore. We were also told there was an ice cream shop along the way that was well-populated by iguanas. How could anyone pass that up? We consulted the map and off we went.
Road signs in CR can be few and far between, and our map was not great with the finer details of the small cities. We weren’t sure of one of our turns so we stopped to ask where the ice cream/iguanas were. The store clerk didn’t speak English, and our Spanish needs some work, so Edgar helpfully drew this on our map.
Suddenly she knew exactly what we were talking about! A few hand signals and “directo! directo!” instructions later, we were on the road again. The iguanas did not disappoint. We didn’t know whether the people at the shop fed them, or they were already there and the shop came along after… but there were definitely iguanas everywhere! Edgar asked the server if they were friendly, and he said, “Well, they have very sharp teeth, but they are nice.” Okay.
We were all feeling a little unsure about petting the nice animals with the razor-sharp teeth, but we were okay with tossing them some leftovers, and then as we saw more people touching them and walking away unscathed, we felt safe enough to pet them too.
No hands were damaged in the shooting of these pictures. That’s the remnants of a mango someone fed them.
With more of the wildlife fed and scratched, we headed off to La Fortuna and the volcano… and met a group of German bodybuilders I was certain was pulling our collective legs. That’s in part two, coming up next weekend!
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 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.
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.
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