The Mexican Mambo

The above is the marina we are in in the "new" harbor and we were tremendously happy to drive in last night. Robert called me, Thanksgiving morning, from the bus station in Nogales as I was going over the border to pick him up. Several very young and tough American guys in blue uniforms asked to look at my Trader Joe's bags to see if I was taking the drugs and guns back to Mexico. No smiles. After being guided through the hell of road construction by locals who didn't know where the bus station was, I finally found Robert and we headed south. We had to get a permit for the car at mile 20, and that is where the Mexican Mambo started. N0t the "two step", but the for real mambo, with variations back and forth to the copy guy, immigration and the bank (banjercito which is run by rigid, uncaring beurocrats). A car import permit requires a visa, we had our's from Cabo. Then because Robert's name was on the car title, they used his and an argument started as Banjercito charged him $25.00 for the visa he had already paid for in Cabo. I quietly said, just pay for the permit, don't argue. Ever tell someone not to argue when they insist they are right? Then the supervisor came over and said we had to get a new visa, as our visa was for a boat not a car. We went back to immigration, who said Banjercito was nuts. So we bought the new visa in my name, as Robert had not left the country. We went back to Banjercito, had to pay for the car permit, more copies made, and they refused to take Robert's card. The permit was in my name, and the credit card had to match the permit with my name on it. Notice, no swear words. We showed our passports, but it sounded as if they wanted a marriage license. Wells Fargo at Frank Lloyd Wright and Via Linda had eaten my credit card that morning. More argument. Didn't work. Nobody budging. We trekked back to immigration, who laughed and said that the "problem is with Banjercito" - no kidding, as we paid for another visa. We had to keep going to the copy office to get more copies of the different documents. Gabriel , at the copy office, thought that having new friends named Robert and Roberta was wonderful and laughed about it alot. We found out, when we saw him leaving the copy office, kissing the girl at the counter who took his place. It was his wife, Gabrielle.
At this point, we were concerned about having enough on Robert's credit card to get us into the country as we had different balances and my card, with a balance was in Scottsdale, in limbo, Ai yi yi. We called Ian, who probably thinks his parents need to be locked up and managed to get home to the boat last night with $10 cash and some pesos. Thank you, Ian.
The highway was mostly toll(Cuota) and very safe and better roads than in Calif. Narrow in places and trucks like to pass fast, but we had a great time. Our Thanksgiving dinner was at a bus stop area: Tacos birrea, Carne asada tacos and all the trimmings. We thought it was wonderful and thought of the other's we have had in the past with a lot of lovely friends who had better get down here.

The colors on the road to Brookings were astonishingly brilliant. A very late Indian Summer had kept everything green, but I was either driving through the sky falling with snow, hail, and heavy rain or small breaks in the storm where I could take a pic like this.

And very happy to be back in Mazatlan, thinking of the wonderful friends who took care of me on the trip up and back. Next week we will try to get a temporary import permit for the boat and will see if we have learned to dance properly.

The "elegant" bus

That is what some of the local cruisers called the bus to the border: it has movies, comfortable seats and loos. Comfortable seats, yes - but you had to have your own tp and the movies were in Spanish. The other drawback was the ambitious searching of the bus, at least 7 - 8 times all night long when we were trying sleep, by the Federales, looking for the drugs and guns all of us were hiding on board. They would come aboard, turn on the lights, say good evening very politely and then tell everyone to get off the bus. I didn't understand and would just sit there and watch pretty pathetic searches and have some nice conversations with the guys who were bored out of their mind. Our governments are working overtime and giving employment to many in Mexico to stamp out the drug trade so the guys have jobs and uniforms.

The violence that "seems" to be so exaggerated by the media between the druggies is minor in light of the violence that is happening in any of our US cities at any given time. In fact, the tourism numbers for Mexico have increased in spite of the media reports and the US economy, but things are still a little slow. We see just calm, good people who are warm, helpful and accomodating...and most of all, extremely polite.

The road from Mexicali to Tijuana was heartstopping up into mountains, curling around sheer cliffs and the driver seemed to take it as carefully as if he was carrying a cargo of eggs. I still wasn't able to look very often as at one time in the middle of the night I looked out the driver's window and saw that we were going 70 mph down the middle of the road. This was a head down, tighten the seat belt and pray some more while waiting for the next Federale "raid".

The border was 4 1/2 hours of lines to walk over, so I was suckered into taking a special bus that would get me across in 15 minutes. They lied - more like an hour plus, but at least I wasn't hauling my luggage in that long line. Just stuck in the heat with two squalling kids in the bus - I gave them fruit, candy and finally told them to be quiet, in Spanish. The others on the bus agreed.....except for the mom. The drug dog at immigration was a golden retriever who kept nudging my bag- the handler took it an put it on the floor where the dog went nuts pushing it around. Two chicken burritos drove it crazy. So, the moral of the story is, if you are going to push AK 47s, hide drugs, don't eat the chicken burritos and you will be either allowed entry to the US without a search or arrested. I was embarrassed for the dog.

I checked into a Point Loma motel and slept for eleven hours and found a secret. You can drive through the crazy LA traffic calmly if you have slept that much. Am in foggy Santa Barbara, missing the warmth of Mazatlan and looking forward to getting back down there and more of the cruise south. But I am with dear friends and that counts more than anything.

What was fascinating was the difference in the small Mexican towns: the growth of the middle class is Mexico is astonishing. The towns are growing, cleaner and more commercial activity than in the past is apparent. Our economy, drug trade, whatever, may have impacted on Mexico, but it appears they are in good shape and doing very well. Hard workers, those Mexicans and perhaps a lesson for all the whining that is going on here in the US. Get to work, people - it is what made the country great.

Photos in the tropics

Molly J(our buddy boat) in the old Mazatlan harbor. The ferry to LaPaz is in the background...years ago I took that from LP to here with my 14 year old son for a Mexican adventure. It was a bit elegant then with a dining room and food that was wonderful. The next trip on it was cut rate everything and mal de mer with diesel fumes.

Taking the pups ashore...in the old Harbor - Mazatlan. People everywhere, hot, dusty and frustrating for the guys as they couldn't have a proper run.

Robert wondering whose idea this all was, in the slip in the new harbor at Mazatlan. Shaving is a challenge.

The anchorage at Bahia Santa Maria...before Cabo. Only part of the 100 plus to 180 boats in the anchorage. We went in at 3 am and tried to anchor silently and left at 3am to get to Cabo by daylight.

A proper feast with the hairy guys. They were great.

Ok, we know we are off Cabo - but where is it?

Leaving condo/Cabo for the overnight to Mazatlan.

Mazatlan

This finding a wifi area is difficult - the marinas say they have it, but weak signals and you have to cart your computor up to an area to write. Somehow I have to load the photos - promise, tomorrow. We had a wild ride across from Cabo with a buddy boat, Molly J - but in the dark they were calling us on the radio to look out for a tanker we had been watching. At the same time a huge boat right near us decided to turn on it's lights and scared us - we call it the "drug boat" as it seemed to be just waiting out in the middle of the ocean. We had adrenaline rushes and crashes and got Robert up to help keep watch. The oil tanker we had been watching turned behind us...for awhile it was on direct line with the back beram of the boat. More nerves.
The sun came up to.....fog. We did not see the coastline until about a mile out and had to announce ourselves to the harbor patrol as large ships go in and out of the very tight harbor entrance. The next morning, we heard all sorts of hooting from a huge ship - Holland America came in and I swear there had to be at least three feet on either side of the ship in the entrance, if that much.
We anchored in front of Club Nautico and went ashore for adventure: hailed what they call a pulmonia (open taxi) to take us to a fruit stand, and then we asked if he wanted lunch. We had street tacos at his favorite place...and a tour of old Mazatlan. Club Nautico used to be a happening place until the north harbor, with expensive marinas opened, but it is still interesting to see all the activity of ferries, cruise ships and the tour boats.
We left this AM for the northern "new harbor" to find a slip as we are trying to get north for some family stuff and blessed Aaron will stay on the boat. Finding the entrance of this place would have been impossible if we didn't have a photo from a new book. Molly J followed us in and now we have to search for a ride north. The entrance and the channel is very, very narrow, and in the heat I went nuts setting the lines and bumpers out, to collapse when the marina guys took the lines. Thank heaven for the marina guys.
The dogs have learned to do their thing on the fake grass, with some some mistakes. When we ask about the mistakes, they scurry away and tell us they don't know what we are talking about. We can see places here near the Marina to fun them, finally. Cabo was impossible for them - us , too...this is quieter.
Mazatlan weather is perfect! Wish you were here. Photos tomorrow.

More Turtle Bay

Leaving Turtle Bay......for Bahia Santa Maria... the little town is where the white line on the left is.

The hangout in Turtle Bay - in front of the harbor....we look happy, but are very tired. Nobody shaved for a few days...look like pirates.

And this was gong down the channel to the start in SanDiego....look at what we left behind.

Evan's birthday in Cabo...without Evan

It is Friday night in the harbor, a 208 lb yellow fin tuna got the tournament prize and the man on the loudspeaker across the harbor with all the fishermen, let us know that they were going to "party" tonight with a big band. Swell. We slept through the band of last night, and wake up to the thumpathump of the party boats. Doesn't really bother us as we sleep with the engine going underway - whodathunk.

Getting into the marina here in Cabo was strange: hundreds of sport fishermen charging us outside the harbor getting to their "spot", the tension of finding boats in our slip and dealing with pangas and other boats moving about. It led to quite a bit of tension among all of us - we were tired, a bit crabby (engine all night - no wind) and there is the anxiousness of a new harbor. We got in ok, had to move to another slip and everyone split to deal with their own stuff - sort of - as if all this is earthshaking and really means anything in the long run. Some hurt feelings - but it all works out eventually. We need to understand that what is important is what is between people and the damn boat will take care of itself without all the drama.

But what is sailing without drama? A good day.

I tried to load photos again...but the internet here fights them, so will do a whole collection when we get better internet . Getting online here is tough.

At Bahia Santa Maria, our second stop, we came inside the bay at dark and anchored a couple times to miss other boats. A lot of dancing around as there was some wind...sure, when we don't need it. Morning brought the sight of being in a bowl of rugged hills, low sand dunes between us and Magdalena Bay, and wet, wet dew all over. We are salty and silty. An estuary runs back towards fish camps, where Peter, Frank and Craig bought some fish we ate for dinner - beyond delicious. Might have been Sierra. There was a party on the beach, which became huge when the tide went out, but we abstained from the food. It had all been trucked in from miles and miles away, and yet, nobody died from the lack of refrigeration. No water for sale: stacks and stacks of Pacifico. We left in the dark to get to Cabo in the daylight.
Saw a lovely turtle, five miles out as well as sharks, sunfish and of course, the ubiquitous pelicans.

So, Evan's birthday. When he was born, the nurses in the infant area would come in to ask me to feed him as his crying was so loud that he kept all the other babies awake. God gave Evan a voice, and we miss it. He is now older than I am. Miracles happen. He and Janice are celebrating in Washington DC and we are thinking of him with a great deal of love, here in the harbor in Cabo San Lucas.