Here’s some postive Mexican images.
Tag Archives: Mexico
I can’t afford the cops down here…
R*RATED for Language and General Attitude
*Edited at 6:55pm*
Driving towards Veracruz, I passed through two checkpoints: one was the Federales and the other was military. Both stopped me this time around. The soldiers asked me where I had been and where I will be going. The Federale asked me where I had been, then asked me if I had enjoyed the food, how did you find the people, and then finally he thanked me for visiting Mexico. He actually thanked me.
Now I know why. He knew what was up ahead.
This time the f****** officer was greedy and kept me on the side of the road until he wore me down. He cleaned me out of all the cash that I didn’t have hidden, and it still wasn’t enough, but he finally realized it really was all I had “available”.
I am trying very hard to not get a bad taste in my mouth for Mexico. It is a f******* shame two lazy, corrupt &%#(*!@$ can have such an impact. I can see why most Americans get turned off by the corrupt policia. UGH!
I said “f*** it” and pulled into a very night hotel for $70 U.S. with a beautiful room, a pool, and a very nice bar.
*I already feel better after the beer*
I couldn’t afford scotch.
The Road to Poza Rica
NYE in Xilitla has less to do with fireworks and more to do with small bombs. The louder and the greater shockwave… the better. There was none of that candy-ass, flower-like, sky brightening crap that they force on us in the States. In Mexico, they throw land mines in the air like a discus. There is no “oohhhing” or “aawwwing”. When one explodes, all you hear is “Do you have a louder one?”
They stopped throwing the land mines around 2, maybe 3 am. I had given up and had turned in by then. I do know that they started up again at 7am precisely.
I was on the road at 8, even though I had a short kilometer day. It turned out to be a good thing.
The roads today were the worst I have seen on the trip. I also set a personal record for the number of topes I drove over in one day. I hope I won’t be breaking that soon. When there wasn’t topes, the road was just in a case of serious decay, which isn’t much more fun. So between the two, I was pretty frazzled by the time I drove into Poza Rica, where I was planning on camping. There isn’t much to say about this oil town, other than the fact that it is just north of El Tajin.
Then my good luck ran out with the local law, and I had my very first Mexican Shakedown Experience. Corrupt, does not even begin to describe it. I still haven’t cooled down, and I am still in his district, so I will refrain for now with details on the ordeal.
Suffice it to say, I left Poza Rica with a lot fewer pesos and a much greater distaste for that slimy town. I had personal contact with three officers today, and I only have a clear picture of the one I’d like to lather up in bacon grease and drop off in the middle of the tundra when the bears first come out of their winter dens…
Anyway…
Once the nice officer had relieved me of my hard-earned pesos, he wanted me gone quickly. I wanted to go one way, but he refused and went out into the street to halt traffic so I was forced to take his route. I’m guessing he enjoyed sending the tourist off in the wrong direction.
Luckily for me, it worked out well. Down the road, I spotted a sign for the Emerald Coast. Speaking fond French words to, and about Poza Rica, I took the turn to the coast, leaving that rancid town behind. The day was early enough, and the tank was full enough for the hour or so drive.
My main concern was that the guidebooks discouraged camping here during the two weeks on either side of NY’s. Locals from Vercruz and the surrounding areas flock here to camp during this time.
Maybe they did last year.
When I turned off of 180 into the drive, the cool breeze flowed through my open windows and vents, and I could see some decent waves crashing onto the black beach, but people were few. I did a quick walk around to find two other sites occupied, but that was all. The family that runs the place has been absolutely great. Very professional, and with a quick wit. They decided early on it was easier for them to talk English than to listen to me butcher Spanish, but they did that in a kind way.
The Mexican Camping Guide I have says that this place has free WiFi and hot showers. It turns out that the part about the hot showers is true, which was all I needed to hear. The very first thing I did was to go and take a shower. The second thing I did was to return to The Rover and open a very cold beer.
BTW. Thanks Mark!
Las Pozas
When I arrived at Las Pozas, three boys greeted me and
asked me if I wanted them to watch The Rover. When I finally caught
onto what they were getting at, I agreed to the deal thinking it
couldn’t hurt. It cost 30 pesos to get into Las Pozas and it is
worth every peso. It is a maze of stone, concrete and rebar that
climbs up into the jungle and dances among waterfalls. The place is
completely bizarre and utterly surreal in the very best definition
of each word. The stone steps take you up, over and down; they lead
you over bridges, into pagodas and through a myriad of doorways,
all with the jungle encroaching and reclaiming. It truly is
amazing. All of this was funded by the imagination and bank account
of Edward James, a patron of the arts and the rumored illegitimate
grandson of King Edward VII. My favorite quote I could find was
from Salvadore Dali who said to James: “Look, we move among a bunch
of pseudo-realists, who… produce nothing but junk. So, they try
to act like madmen to justify themselves. On the other hand, you
who are real labor to act sane.” When Edward James came to Xilitla
after WWII, it seems he fell in love with the area. I can
understand why: I just spent ten minutes watching two flocks of
parrots circle and squawk at each other. When I returned to The
Rover, the three boys had turned into four. I gave the ring leader
30 pesos to divide as he saw fit, saying it was the same as Las
Pozas. “Es bueno?” “Si. Es bueno.”
Xiltila
I left El Banito around 8am. In the towns along the way, people had already started to congregate out at the highway and I expect much of 85 would be one long block party for NYE.
I passed the turnoff for Hwy 120 because the way was blocked by trucks and venders, but I had a sneaking suspicion that it was the road I wanted, and turned around after only a kilometer or two. Northbound, the turn was clearly marked, so I weaved my way through the traffic and soon found myself climbing. And climbing. And climbing. It is hard to tell if it is the cliff that hangs over the road as you venture up to Xilitla or the thick vegetation growing from it, but much of the time, I felt like I was driving through a green tunnel.
Then suddenly, hanging onto the mountain slope, is Xilitla. It is my favorite place in Mexico so far. The town sits at an elevation of 1151 meters in the Sierra Madre Oriental. Up high is the central plaza and everything else simply follows the green slopes downwards from there. The streets are narrow, made more for the Beetle, and they were packed with people and vehicles preparing for the festivities. Mexico obviously loves to party. The topes in the roads however, are like pyramids, which would not be kind to vertically challenged cars.
I had to escape the town center for my sanity, and tried to find the way to Las Pozas. Finally, I was rewarded with a road sign. The narrow street eventually turned into a rough, rock road. I asked three women separately, “Las Pozas?” and received three positive responses. In the end, it did take me to the dream of Edward James.
My plan was to rent a cabana on the grounds of Las Pozas, which I thought would be incredibly cool, and I had already met several tourists who were doing just that. Unfortunately, they made reservations, and I had not. The cabanas were booked solid. Miguel, one of the tour guides, had overheard my predicament and gave me directions to his mother’s place. Josephine had a small restaurant back up the road and she rented rooms that overlooked the Las Pozas valley.
The room was basic, but clean and a bargain. It had a bath, and a cold shower. And I do mean cold. Glacier cold.
I ate lunch in Josephine’s restaurant. The daughter, like Miguel speaks fluent English, which helped out tremendously. I can get by with my broken Spanglish, but I really should have taken more time to expand on my Spanish. At the next table, a little girl was sitting with her family, and the entire time she kept talking about ‘the gringo’. Her father leaned over to her with a grin on her face and his eyes on me and said, “Be careful, I think he understands a little.”
With everyone else here, I have become “El Americano”. I have heard it several times, and even heard it when I walked back up to the plaza. Sitting alongside the oddly cobblestoned road, I regret that The Rover is front & center. It has captivated everyone’s attention whether they pass by on foot, horse, car or bike. There isn’t much I can do about it, and I can not empty it either. I was told it would be fine, and the daughter had me park it under the families front window. It is obvious from the interaction here, that the family is respected. To be honest, I am betting on that.
The family at the next table get up to leave and the father tells me to enjoy my visit to Mexico.
I sure hope I will. I do know one thing… I won’t be sleeping much tonight.
El Banito Balneario
El Banito
Balneario… For the first time. I have opened the tent’s side
panels to let in a cool & moist breeze. I am in a rather
surreal campground, surrounded by trees painted white and chirping
crickets. It is a bit weird for me. I can not remember the last
time I sat out at camp in night air that is warm enough to be
shirtless and still be able to see the stars. It gets dark so early
down here! Doesn’t warm air mean daylight and lots of it? Star
viewing is done when it is forty below. It’s all backwards… For
the second night in a row, I am the only camper… umm… camping.
The cost was $8 to park The Rover in this grassy field. It doesn’t
seem like this place sees a lot of action these days, which is a
shame. It’s a nice place, very wooded with lots of shade, but if
you want hook-ups to power & water, you may be
disappointed. The grass seems like a nice change for checking
fluids. There is a bar/restaurant down below and lots of out
buildings scattered about with changing and bathrooms. I was told
there are a couple of pools that I plan on using for a quick swim
in the morning. The bar would fit in perfectly in Alaska with lots
of strange and quirky things hanging from the ceiling or nailed to
beams, including a Canadian license plate in the shape of a polar
bear. I have always wanted one of those NWT plates myself. I ate
dinner down at the cantina tonight. The food was very good, and
there was plenty of it for a very good price. An older, very lean,
Mexican gentleman with a straw cowboy hat was the only other
patron. He spoke fluent english, and told me that he had been
offered a job in Alaska when he graduated from a university in
Texas. When I asked why he didn’t take the job, he said “The job
paid $10 per hour, and I was told hamburgers sold for $15.” I
laughed, and told him that burgers went for only $12. I had
forgotten the sound of crickets.
San Luis Potosi Redux
I had to swing into Office Depot of Laredo to print out an emailed attachment from Sanborn’s showing that I had renewed my Mexican Auto Insurance. These guys are the company to go with… great customer service. As I was leaving, I ran into Paul, our host for the first visit to Laredo. It was great to see him, even if it was a short visit in the parking lot. The Rotary dinner is a Laredo highlight.
Paul seemed surprised to hear that I was venturing back into Mexico solo. I do admit to being apprehensive
before the crossing. There is definitely a comforting feeling when the person riding along next to you is as insane as you are. It’s not quite as comforting when you can’t find anyone else to ride along…
At the immigration checkpoint, I noticed the border guard’s eyes take in Guadalupe on the windscreen. This was the first time I could tell it was seen. The guard also took in the vehicle permit sticker on the same pane of glass. I handed him my passport.
“Tourista?” He asked.
“Si. Tourista.”
“Que ano?”
And with that question, any apprehension dissipated into the Mexican air.
He was looking at The Rover.
“Sesenta-seis,” I replied.
The guard shook his head from side to side as he fought the grin that was forming. “Disfrutar de Mexico,” he said handing me back the unopened passport. Then he waved me through.
I made good time in spite of the nasty, nasty headwinds and the mountains west of Monterrey. The two mortal enemies of the Series Land Rover. I stopped at the “Speedy” Wayside rest area just past the toll, and met a couple from Dallas who had a springer spaniel puppy. I would have left with the pup as a copilot if they had offered. Luckily, they did not offer.
On a steep incline I passed a military convoy. No one wanted to pass them at first, so we all kind of congregated in the two lanes behind them until one trucker finally broke through the impasse. I snuck in between two semi-trucks and scooted around. At the top, the two northbound lanes were blocked off by police. I never saw the reason why. For 25 kms after that, traffic was locked in a bumper to bumper gridlock. The sight made me nauseous because I know I’ll find myself caught in a mess like that eventually. I have to give the Mexicans credit though: From what I saw, they were not overly stressed out. People had climbed out of their cars and were talking to one another, and some had pulled out lawn chairs and were relaxing in the afternoon sun. I did not hear one car horn, and I saw only one car cross the median to our side. Amazing really. I can’t imagine myself not driving across the grass and just going back to where I had come from. I’d rather wait a day than wait in a line.
For the first time since I have owned The Rover, I experienced vapor lock. At least I assume it was vapor lock, it isn’t really an Alaskan affliction. It didn’t take long to work through it, and I was driving slow up hills and into the wind in no time. Still, when I stop for a couple of days, I’ll take Mac’s advice and install that aux fuel pump.
90 kms outside of Matehuala, I spotted a wooden cart being pulled by a burro with two more burros following behind on either side of the cart. Riding in the cart were two teenage boys. The youngest, who was in the rear of the cart, saw me driving up the road and started to whack the older one on the back. The little wagon came to a stop, and both boys were staring at The Rover by the time we were even with each other.
I waved when we passed and both boys shot out such a huge grin and waved back so enthusiastically, that I had to laugh. Then they were gone.
Just shy of Matehuala, another military convoy passed me. It could have been part of the one I went by earlier, or it could have been a different one. All the soldiers went by with a stoic look on their face and both hands on their rifle. Then the last truck passed and reentered our lane in front of The Rover. The final soldier was standing at the rear of the truck with his back to the other soldiers. He raised one hand, waved, and gave me the thumbs up. Then they were gone.
Touch & Go with the Tropic of Cancer
16 December
A beautiful day in Mexico. Woke up at 6am, had a quick breakfast and saw the largest skunk I have ever seen hop over an adobe wall where the Bibler was staked and amble over to where I was standing with his massive, all-white tail high in the air. I quickly closed the tailgate and took a step back. The skunk came to the edge of the sidewalk and then crawled into a hole under the concrete right behind the Rover and disappeared.
We filled up the gas tank in town and joked with the attendants at a Pemex station. “Alaska, muy frio!” They said. “No, no… Mexico muy caliente,” I replied. They laughed and shook their heads no.
At one point, we saw a horse riding in the back of a pick up truck, which is a sight you just don’t see everyday in the States. There were also burros and goats in numbers to rival the sightings of caribou and bison in the north.
We crossed the Tropic of Cancer and had traveled 20 kms or so when the trouble hit. At first, the Rover acted like it had no power going down the road, even though there was no reason for that to be the case. There was only a minor grade and no wind to speak of. I pulled over to the shoulder, and Peter guided me into the grass trying to avoid the broken glass and other tire pokers. The brake pedal was solid, which was not normal, and I immediately could smell brakes. It didn’t take long to realize that the master cylinder had locked up the brakes as tight as a drum.
Peter and I were able to release the pressure and get the truck going again. Peter immediately voted to return to Texas, I knew it was the smart move, but didn’t feel it was the right move. Eventually, I did turn around and we made our way to Saltillo without any further issue.
Driving back, I was not the warm & fuzzy curmudgeon everyone is used to. I was kicking myself about turning around, and really regretted not returning to Las Palmas to ask the nice people there if they knew of any good mechanics.
The road to Saltillo took us through some beautiful mountains, which didn’t help matters any. The slopes were covered in cedar trees and other junipers. We were passed by a young man on an old Yamaha 350, who gave me a quick thumbs up as he went by. This was the country that I had come to see and it was painful to be heading north again.
Just south of Piedras Negras, we hit our first military checkpoint. The guard was amused with us and the rig, and waved us through without even a glance at our passports. At Eagle Pass, we were pulled out of line, the vehicle was x-rayed, checked out by the dogs and emptied by the border guards. They only half-assed looked at a few items before telling us we could go. Welcome back.
17 December
It was obviously time for Peter and I to part company, so I dropped him off in San Antonio to catch Amtrak again. I think it is safe to say that both of us realized that the Circle to Circle trek was not a trip Peter was suppose to make, but hindsight is 20/20 and woulda, shoulda, coulda never gets you anywhere.
I had sent Mac an email from Saltillo, and he confirmed my suspicions that it was a master cylinder failure. He offered me his shop and expertise to work on the truck, which I took him up on. I’ll have more on Mac and his family later, but suffice it to say, they have been great and have gone above & beyond anything I could have expected.
20 December
The new master cylinder is in the truck. We also replaced the passenger side front wheel cylinders and fixed an axle seal leak. We agreed that I really needed to re-line the brake shoes, so they are in the shop today for that, and should be done by 5pm. If all goes well, the Rover should roll out of Mac’s shop with a revamped braking system tomorrow afternoon.
Honestly, what a roller coaster ride. Not much I can do but go with the flow. Mac wants to call my Rover “Texas”, because it doesn’t seem to want to leave this state. I’m not quite ready to go that far…
P.S. A very Happy Birthday to AJ & Megs.
Matehuala, Mexico
We stopped here at La Palmas in Matehuala. I was told the place is run by some great people, and that Mexico Overlanders should support them with the tourist crunch that is going on right now in Mexico. So far, everyone here has been great. We have the back RV area to ourselves, and there are only a few rooms rented by the looks of it. But we do have a shower and the overnight charge for the Rover and the Bibler is $23.50 USD.
Time to search for the cerveza.
Estoy en Mexico
We crossed into Nuevo Laredo, but didn’t spend any time there since we had already visited on two consecutive days. En route to Monterrey we had to stop to show our papers approximately 20 miles in. The agent was professional and courteous. He took our passports, glanced at our FMT, and declined the automotive stuff, and we were on our way. That was the only time we were stopped.
For the most part we went against 75% of advice given and drove the libre roads, jumping on the toll roads only when they made our life easier. All went well and we saved some pesos.
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