Exploring Mexico

Dear friends,

A lot has happened since I last spoke to you.

From Guaymas we continued South along the ocean and into the coastal farmlands of Mexico.

We found a spot on the outskirts of a small beachtown. It was quiet here, except for the gentle sound of the waves rolling in. The flowing water formed dense ripples in the sand. In the shallow tide the water would pull the sand from beneath my heels, nestling my feet in its smooth embrace.

The water drew up seashells of brilliant colours and shapes, and I returned to Alex eagerly, batting my eyes in hopes that he would let me keep the handful I had collected.

I felt like I could stay on this beach forever. But onward we traveled.

For our next location we weren’t exactly sure what we were driving into. We were hoping for a quiet beachside respite and a break from the constant go-go-go. However, the dirt road became thin and rocky, crumbling lean-to shelters pock-marked the shifting terrain and there was scattered refuse along the roadside. As we arrived we saw some locals on a hill that overlooked a small cove named Playa de Hincha Huevos. We would soon realize that we had just stumbled into paradise.

There was a fellow traveler by the name of Casey who had also just arrived. He had driven here from San Diego in only three days and was on a trip to watch the Eclipse in Puerto Vallarta. We asked if it was alright to share the site with him and he was more than happy to have the company.

We made it just in time to set up camp for sunset, make some quesadillas and sit in awe at the starry sky above us.

I woke up to the waves crashing against the rocks that lined the shores below us. There were flocks of brown pelicans, whooping cranes, double crested cormorants, osprey and Bonaparte gulls, (we did our research). The tide was out, and the fish were in the shallows– it was feeding time.

We had just finished doing yoga on a soft patch amongst the rocks, overlooking the ocean, before heading down to the water for a swim where I dove under the bubbling water, the waves rippling gently over my back.

Each time a wave grew near we readied ourselves to dive underneath.

In the distance we could see a man running towards us. He was wearing an oversized ‘Among Us’ t-shirt, a bucket hat, and flimsy sandals. He was flailing his arms and shouting at us in a mixture of English and Spanish. We headed towards him and he greeted us with a friendly grin and handshake.

His name was Fernando. He was explaining with his hands that we were swimming in an area that there was a riptide, and that it was safe to swim a little further down. He was precariously balancing on slippery rocks, scantily applying sunscreen and proceeding to tell us all about his life.

He was a pro tennis coach, and owned land all over the world. He was building cabanas nearby out of old “madera blanca”- white beach wood and that this land was his backyard.

He told us if we needed anything, to let him know. He scuttled away to his tarp shelter while Alex and I laughed to each other about the experience. We continued to play in the waves until our legs were shaky and our bodies stinging from the salt water.

Later that afternoon Fernando came by to say hello and ask for our phone number to connect with us. We were enjoying some mango tequila so we offered him a glass, he happily swigged it down, chatted a little more then got back to his affairs.

As the day carried on we went onto explore the land and found some rocks nearby suitable for bouldering. Alex had a blast while I silently judged his safety choices and spotted him to the best of my abilities.

As we were preparing our dinner Alex noticed Fernando and another local bent over an ATV that would not start.

He rushed over shouting something about “the choke.” After about 45 minutes of running back and forth to grab different tools, he had managed to get them moving, but resigned to his inability to fix the issue.

We were sad to leave the next morning, this little spot felt like exactly what we had come on the trip for. Fernando came over to us as we were packing up and asked if he went to get more tools could Alex help him work on the ATV a bit more. He happily agreed and Fernando returned with fresh tortillas for us to say thankyou.

On our way out we went into the local town nearby to get some fresh seafood recommended by Fernando. The portion sizes were massive and the ceviche was incredible. People were looking at us funny because we really were in the middle of nowhere. I can imagine gringos don’t pass through here often. We ended up having some nice conversations with them, they were very excited to hear about our adventure.

From here we drove to Mazatlán, the first major city since LA. We were on the hunt for propane.

Thus far we had been using the small one litre propane cylinders you could get at Canadian Tire or Walmart to fuel our camping stove. The issue with these tanks is that we go through them  quickly, and once we had passed through the states they became practically impossible to find. We had seen some RV’s who had smallish four kg propane tanks that would be the perfect size to last us a little longer and also fit in our car.

The problem was, there were only nine kg tanks available and we weren’t sure if we could fit it in the car. We had already looked at multiple home depots as well as local propane shops in smaller cities, to no avail. We went to the Home Depot in Mazatlán hopeful, as it was a larger city with more amenities. After searching the store top to bottom and endlessly asking for assistance they eventually found one in the upper reaches of the storage shelves.

After scarcely skirting by on the single one litre tank that we had found for over $30 at Walmart, we were relieved to have made it one inch closer.

The next step would be finding an adapter piece to hook the tank up, but hang tight for the rest of the story.

That night we ended up in a hotel way out of our budget on Stone island–a middle class hipsters paradise. We realized that sometimes on this trip we will have to put paying for safety above our need to stick on budget. And it came at the right time, as it had been almost three weeks without a real bed, and we were both burnt to a crisp and in need of a proper shower and a good night's rest.

The following day ended on a beach, under the stars with a meaningful exchange reflecting on what’s brought us here. In the morning however, we were greeted with a rude awakening of heat rash and sand flies. It was a disruptive experience but it was followed by the best breakfast we’ve had yet.

The restaurant was located just off the side of the highway. It was a warm Sunday morning and everyone was out in their Sunday best, except for us. A gentlemen was setting up a sound system with a microphone. He introduced himself as Carlos Albertos of “Estacionamiento Karaoke” (parking lot karaoke) and he began to sing. His voice filled every corner of the restaurant. It was deep and booming while soft and fluid. There was a lack of appreciation from the brunch goes. It felt like we were in a telenovela that everyone around us had already seen before, but Alex and I sat in awe. Our bill that day for the two of us came out to around $16 for a hearty breakfast with cinnamon flavoured coffee, and a free, live, entertaining performance. This was why we came to Mexico.

That day we drove through vibrant cities and luscious forests. We were on route to a small town called San Pancho.

We ended up at a campground just outside of the town that was essentially a hippy commune. Hammocks and tents were strewn across a dusty makeshift lot next to an abandoned bullfighting coliseum. Multicoloured patchworks of yarn and decorative silks hung over the trees and communal spaces with string lights encircling the property.

When we arrived, a hillbilly British vagrant named Tommy shouted at us from across the grounds in broken Spanish. He was wearing a ripped, dirty and holy crewneck, thongless flip flops and oversized cargo shorts that were probably once beige. He asked us if we spoke any Spanish, we replied “un poco” then he laughed and revealed his English heritage. He showed us around, took our money and let us get settled, it wasn't until later we found out that he didn’t actually work there.

The town was quite small, you could walk it’s full length in 20 minutes. As we walked from the campsite down to the beach it’s tourist nature began to reveal itself. There was an odd combination of upscale restaurants and high class bars, with hippies selling homemade trinkets baubles and jewelry. There was a weirdly familiar sense of community as well, skate parks, libraries, yoga studios and local cafes.

We spent two nights in this town. The second day we were there was the day of the solar eclipse. We would have a %96 totality view. We watched on the beach alongside a crowd of visitors and locals alike. As the moon began to shield the sun a cool breeze fell upon us. The light started to dim and everyone directed their attention towards the sky.

We laid on the sand and watched the spectacle as the heat returned and the darkness lifted.

We had our first 20 pesos tacos that night. That’s 1.50 per taco friends, which we soon learned isn’t even as cheap as they get.

Our last day on the coast we made our way through Puerta Vallarta to finally solve our propane dilemma.

We were looking for an adapter for our off-brand and “efficiently” sized tank. After going to yet another Home Depot to search for the right adapter, we still came out empty handed. This time we tried a local appliance store where we found our first glimpse of hope. While the answer wasn’t there we were pointed in a direction where we might find what we were looking for- El Tio Sam’s.

When we arrived a friendly and competent sales clerk jumped at the challenge. He had exactly the part that we needed, or so we thought. When we screwed it on it fit like a glove, but when we tested it, it was leaking. The adapter that he had, worked perfectly with the larger nine kg tanks we had seen all this time, but would not in fact work with the smaller tank we had purchased. We realized if we wanted to solve this problem we needed to find a way to fit this tank in our car.

After reorganizing the car “yet again” we were able to make it fit. We bit the bullet and made the purchase. We then returned to a Home Depot to return our previously purchased tank. The real kicker was that all they could do to reimburse us was give us a home depot gift card. We felt a little defeated but were grateful we had finally solved the problem.

The positive end to the story is that it cost us only $16 to fill the tank, which is 10 times the size of our old one.

It took us almost two weeks to find a solution to our predicament. It once again highlighted the difference in conveniences between this life and our life back home. At home we could order both the parts and the small tank we needed from amazon and have it within 24 hours. We wouldn’t have to stumble our way through broken communication and spend extra gas driving back and forth.

Although this task was challenging we have grown all the more from it, which is why we're on this trip in the first place.