We were hiking yesterday near Lake Mead when we met two Canadian guys who were motorcycling through the desert on their way to Mexico, with the intention to cruise all the way down the Baja to Cabo San Lucas. (I was envious: that’s always been on my Bucket List!)
Buena fortuna, Senores. Vaya con Dios!
Charlie and I haven’t been down to Mexico in quite a few years, essentially since we bought our Class A motorhome and set about seeing the U.S.A. Back in the day, however, we traveled to Mexico a lot and ALWAYS had a great time.
Of course, Tijuana is just across the border from Southern California, so I’ve gone there and passed through there plenty of times. It’s a big town, but the “touristy” part is concentrated in one area, with lots of shops, bars, restaurants, “tittie” joints, pickpockets, and hustlers everywhere.
Crossing the border going south is a breeze, but coming back is a bear, because probably a million people a day use that port of entry. Inching along in a throng of cars, with vendors pestering you incessantly, and Mexican cops looking for any way that they can cite you (and pocket the fine!).
It sucks to cross the border in a car, but that’s how most illegals do it (and how most of the drugs come north, as well.)
Of course, there are other ways to cross the border, like climbing the wall or swimming around the fence at the ocean. Or, perhaps, transiting one of the cartel tunnels that go under the border wall. I’ve never had to use one of those routes, but I have sidled up to the fence at the ocean (on my horse Louie!) and talked to Mexican children on the other side. It is weird, with 24 inches feet dividing two countries. I wonder how many desperate people simply float around the fence in an innertube in the middle of the night?)
One of the first family vacations that we took (including Charlie’s four young sons) was to Estero Beach, just south of Ensenada.
I was very familiar and comfortable with this place, as my own family had enjoyed a beach getaway near Ensenada back in the early 1960’s. My Dad and a buddy had sited a trailer on a lot overlooking the ocean and had built an add-on bunk room for the kids. My brother Terry and I had a ball there getting into all manner of mischief.
My Dad’s uncle Les and wife Peggy also had a house there. Les was a fisherman and took me out a few times in his cabin cruiser. My parents were scuba divers who loved to harvest large Abalone and Lobsters from the local waters. They were also expert water skiers, and they did some ocean skiing there. I can report that, courtesy of a meal at a local Ensenada restaurant, I experienced my first case of Montezuma’s Revenge at age 12.
On one trip to our house in Ensenada, my Dad was scuba diving at the rocky point called La Bufadora (“the blowhole”). It’s a famous attraction where a tidal bore causes water to shoot out of the rocks like Old Faithful. Anyway, my Dad and his buddy Cliff were underwater there, right near the blowhole, when the incoming tidal surge started pulling my Dad upward quickly. He would have been jammed into the blowhole and died except for the quick action of Cliff, who grabbed ahold of him and held him until the tidal surge had abated.
The trailer park where we had our vacation home has long since been demolished. In it’s place are a university and a spectacular cliff side eatery (Restaurante en Punta Morro). Charlie and I and my Mom went there one weekend just to see the old site and have a nice meal. My Mom got falling down drunk and didn’t sober up until we were back across the border. HaHa.
Speaking of Ensenada adventures, I once did a weekend fishing trip with a neighbor at the time named Dick Dawes and a few of his friends. We camped overnight at Estero Beach and got peppered by mosquitos. Then, we went out on a half-day charter boat and caught quite a few Yellowtail. We threw them in the back of the pickup and headed north. When we got to Ensenada, Dick decided to take us to a bar for a beer. As soon as our party of three was seated at a table, we were descended upon by three “ladies” who got real friendly real fast. Dick disappeared into the restroom with one of them, came out about five minutes later, and said, “We’re leaving!” We left and drove home. About a week later, Dick’s girlfriend Diane (who was Charlie’s BFF) told her that Dick was acting strange and had shaved his pubic hair off… in an effort to rid himself of some Mexican hitchhikers, I think. HaHa.
I took four years of Spanish in high school and college, enabling me to be comfortable in Mexico reading signs, menus, negotiating the highways and streets, and talking to locals. So, I’m at ease down south of the border, even though I’m way out of practice with my Espanol.
We did some golf outings at Bajamar, which is between Rosarito Beach and Ensenada with friends. It is a beautiful course, right on the coast, like a poor man’s Pebble Beach. Lots of fun.
Over the years, Charlie and I took a number of quickie, 3-day cruises down to Ensenada, and then a bunch of 7-day cruises to the “Mexican Riviera” (which included Cabo San Lucas, Mazatlan, and Puerto Vallarta). Lots smiles, lots of fun, lots of memories. Everything considered, I think Puerto Vallarta is my favorite Mexican city.
One of the cool places near Puerto Vallarta is Yelapa, a tropical seaside village that can only be accessed by boat and is populated by native “Indian” people. Its gorgeous, has a beautiful beach, horses to ride into the mountains, and great food and homemade pies served from huts on the beach.
We were really into cruising back then, and we occasionally visited Mexican ports on Caribbean cruises. We’ve been to Playa del Carmen and Cancun numerous times, always enjoying our Mexican hosts. On one cruise, a Panama Canal trip from Florida to San Diego, we spent our 25th anniversary in Acapulco, topping it off with a romantic dinner at a rooftop restaurant overlooking the magnificent bay. We also saw the famous “cliff divers” during that visit. Very impressive.
Our son Jeff and wife Carol used to enjoy vacations in the Yucatan Penninsula at a place called Tankah Bay near Tulum. They would rent a large house there which could accommodate several couples. It was very nice, right on the bright white sand, facing out upon turquoise waters, with a reef several hundred yards offshore. We snorkeled, explored the area, enjoyed each other, and had some great meals in the local area.
Some years later, Charlie, Jeff, Carol and I had the opportunity to visit Chichen Itza, the Mayan ruins in the interior of the Yucatan. We stayed at a hotel within the national park and got to spend a whole day investigating the many stone buildings, the pyramid, the ball court, etc. In addition, we were able to visit several large cenotes (underground caverns with freshwater pools) that were magnificent. Jeff and Carol swam in one of them.
Speaking of ancient ruins, on another trip to Mexico City, Charlie and I visited Tenochtitlan, a prehistoric ruins outside of the city that pre-dates the Mayans, Toltecs, and Aztecs. The ancient city complex is enormous, as are the two pyramids. With difficulty, I climbed the Pyramid of the Sun. What a view from up there!
While we were in Mexico City, we went on a two-day private tour with our guide “Vincente” that included the Presidential Palace, the Xochimilco Floating Gardens, the Cathedral of the Virgin of Guadalupe, and the National Pawn Shop near the central plaza. Everything and everybody that we met was/were wonderful. Vincente, our guide, gave Charlie and I a two-day education on all things Mexican, including history, culture, and politics. It was magical.
When I was in the county fair business, Charlie and I and some business acquaintances used to frequent San Felipe, which is a small fishing town at the north end of the Gulf of California. The drive there, through the desert south of Calexico, was intimidating but safe, as there were military checkpoints every so often to keep the “banditos” at bay. We never had a problem and always enjoyed our time in San Felipe.
They had a great bar/nightclub there called the “Rockodile”, which featured loud dance music and an indoor sand volleyball court where teams of half-sloshed patrons would compete against each other. Great fun, lots of laughs.
On one trip to San Felipe, we drove in a wild, 50K off-road “poker run” through the Baja desert. There were hundreds of competitors, there were crashes, breakdowns, cars getting beat up, and a Marlin barbeque with wet T-shirt contest at the 25K mark. My buddy’s Jeep Cherokee took a beating, but we had a great day.
One of our go-to places in San Felipe was an outdoor taco stand where one could get 3 street tacos and a Pacifico cerveza for one dollar, and that included all of the chips and guacamole that you could eat. We would spend hours there, eating, drinking, negotiating with vendors, and buying songs from local Mariachi groups who would drop by. Our favorite songs were “Cucurrucucu Paloma” and “La Puerta Negra”. The best food in this sleepy Mexican fishing village was a provided by a huge Chinese restaurant. Go figure.
Back in the day, when I was a fisherman, some buddies and I flew down to Mazatlan for several days to fish for Marlin and Sailfish. We stayed at the Oceano Pacific hotel, right on the bay, and had a great time. My brother and I had brought some light tackle and we used it to “fish” for rats coming down to the pool area at night, intent on scavenging leftovers from the tourists’ poolside snacks.
Many years later, Charlie and I visited Mazatlan with some Bear Creek friends, the Clowers. They owned a timeshare at a place called Pueblo Bonito Mazatlan. It was nice.
We soon got finagled into a timeshare presentation at Pueblo Bonito’s new project called Emerald Bay at the very north end of the Mazatlan metro area. It was gorgeous and we purchased a Junior timeshare. Over the years, we increased our timeshare investment to a Master and then to a Presidential. It was very nice, easily accommodating two couples. We enjoyed that timeshare for many years along with two other couples from Bear Creek who also purchased timeshares, the Paces and the Knapps.
Mazatlan is a large city on a bay that features a 12-mile-long oceanfront “boardwalk” (actually concrete) where everyone walks in the mornings and evenings. Another point of interest is the Zona Colonial, which is the old (founded in 1531!) center of town, which includes the Cathedral, the Centro Mercado, and numerous excellent restaurants. One of our favorites is the “Presidio”, which is a huge, high-end restaurant situated in a Colonial military barracks.
We were coming home one night from a downtown meal when we spotted a bunch of people stopped alongside the Malecon (on the shore side). Charlie, my son Jeff and wife Carol, and I got out of our taxi to see what was happening. Adjacent to the street and down about 20 feet was a marshy river where a lot of critters lived. That evening a battalion of raccoons (mapaches) had come up to the street to beg for food. There were scores of them, and people were feeding them bits of bread, tortillas, and leftover scraps that they were taking home from restaurants. These wild raccoons were used to this and would come right up to you and eat out of your hand. The younger, shy ones stayed down in the marsh, but we could see hundreds of eyeballs shining in the streetlight’s glare. It was very cool.
The ”Golden Zone” is an area along the beach between the Malecon and the marina, populated by bars, restaurants, shops, and a few hotels. Transportation in Mazatlan is facilitated by the “pulmonia”, an open-air taxi built on a Jeep Thing chassis. (Pulmonia means pneumonia in Spanish, referring to the open-air nature of the taxi) These contraptions, with their super-friendly drivers, wild horns, and loud music blaring, are the best way to see the city, particularly when everyone is three sheets to the wind after getting shit-faced at Senor Frogs or some other wild ass bar.
(I recall a time at Senor Frogs with my parents. My Mom and Dad liked to dance and would do so without much provocation. After food and mucho tequila shots, my Mom (who was around 60 years old at the time) got up on a table and put on a show to the blaring music of the Rolling Stones. It was embarrassing but, hey, Mexico is about having fun. On the same trip, we were all enjoying a folkloric show at the Oceano Pacific, swilling mass quantities of rum drunks. My poor Dad got shitfaced, I had to take him to the restroom, and he upchucked all of his recently-consumed enchilada dinner and appetizer sampler. I’m sure it tasted better going down than coming up. HaHa.)
Something fun to do in Mazatlan is to rent a motorscooter and cruise all over the city. My friend Clark Pace (another Pueblo Bonito timeshare holder) and my brother Terry did that with me on occasion.
Life at Pueblo Bonito Emerald Bay was heaven on earth, with the facility overlooking the ocean, several large pools with swim-up bars, and a number of restaurants on site. The grounds are well-manicured, with large tropical trees (home to parrots and iguanas), tennis courts, and a world-class spa. When we bought, plans for the resort included a Jack Nicklaus golf course… which didn’t happen while we were there.
Our timeshare membership entitled us to “privileges” at other Pueblo Bonito resorts in Mexico, including a couple in Cabo San Lucas. We spent a really nice time there (Sunset Beach) one year with friends, and I think Charlie spent a week at Pueblo Bonito Rose on El Medano Beach with some girlfriends. (Our timeshare membership enabled us to exchange our yearly entitlement with timeshares all over the world. One year we did so, spending a spectacular week on the Costa de Oro in Spain.)
Speaking of Cabo San Lucas, I’ve been there a lot, beginning way back when the city was hardly more than a small marina (for Marlin fishermen) and a few bars and restaurants. It is now much larger, crammed with shops, bars, restaurants, thousands of cruise passengers, and hundreds of local grifters trying to sell you a timeshare.
One of the fun things to do in Cabo is to rent an ATV and take it out to the large sand dunes north of the city. My brother and I had quite an adventure out there one year, when we took advantage of numerous “race courses” that had been created in the sand dune complex. We got bolder and bolder during the day, until I took a nasty crash, with the ATV landing on me and practically crushing my pelvis. Not a good day, but “what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger”, right?
That trip to Cabo was actually a fishing trip, where Terry and I were hoping to catch a Marlin or maybe a large tuna. That didn’t happen, although I caught a large bull Dorado near the entrance to the marina. Frustrated that the fishing sucked, we subsequently booked a couple of trips to the East Cape where we fished for Dorado near La Paz and Roosterfish at Punta Colorada. That part of the Gulf of California used to be a world-class fishery but, by then, was a mere shadow of its former self, due to overfishing and Japanese trawlers illegally scooping up all of the marine life they could find. No bueno.
One of the best things about Mexico is, of course, the food.
Like many Southern Californians, we used to drive a couple hundred miles, cross the border, and cruise down the toll highway to Puerto Nuevo, an old place that has been serving lobster dinners for the past 70 years. My parents took us there back in 1960, and I’ve been there several times since then with friends and relatives. It ‘s an unusual little “town” where all the buildings are restaurants and they all serve the same speciality: lobster.
Most of the places that we’ve visited in Mexico have been in coastal areas, so seafood is quite common. Some of our favorites are: La Costa Marinara, Gus & Gus, and Pancho’s in the Golden Zone (Mazatlan); Topolo and El Presidio de Cocina (Colonial Zone, Mazatlan); and, La Habichuela in downtown Cancun.
We eventually got rid of our timeshare to concentrate our energies and funds on camping in the U.S.A. in our Class A motorhome.
Our last trip to Mexico occurred a few years ago when we visited Algodones, which is a small border town near Yuma, Arizona. Lots of “snowbirds” winter in Yuma, and Algodones is the favored place to get cheap dental and vision care and, also, pharmaceuticals. The border town is like a mini-Tijuana: you walk across the border and everything you’re looking for is within a quarter-mile or so. They offer plastic surgery, too.
One thing that I will say about my “Mexico” experiences, covering more than sixty years of traveling there, is that the Mexican people are friendly, helpful, fun-loving, hard-working folk who don’t have a lot but are content with what they have. The children always have smiles on their faces, indicating that they are loved by their families. Mexicans love their country, just like we love ours, and only come north for work and money that they can send home to their families.
We were on an excursion one day in the local mountains outside of Mazatlan, where we happened upon an old man down along a river bank making adobe bricks from the mud, one at a time. The temperature was in the 90’s, as was the humidity, and the old guy was there, all by himself, working like a slave all day long to make a few pesos. I don’t know any White man who would work that hard for so little. Later in our tour, we happened upon a very little town (I think it was called “Columbia”) of neat little houses, dirt streets, and… no men. The residents consisted of women and their children only, going to school and keeping the community tidy, while then menfolk were up in the United States earning money that they could send home to their families. We were told that the men would be home after the harvest season, meaning that these families were without their husbands and daddies for 4 to 6 months every year.
(I recall another incident, in the desert south of La Paz, when my brother and I were heading out to a remote beach to board a fishing panga. About five miles out in the desert, we came upon a very old man who was scraping up salt from a playa to sell. It was about 100 degrees out there, he was all by himself, and working his ass off… to collect a few pounds of salt. I’ll bet he didn’t make one dollar a day for his efforts and, yet, he went to work each day, roasting out in the desert for a handful of pesos.
One of our favorite things to do when we owned the timeshare at Emerald Bay was to spend the day on the beach at Pueblo Bonito Mazatlan under a palapa, enjoying the sun, the snacks, and adult beverages. A litany of walking vendors parades by all day, selling anything from clothing to knickknacks to jewelry.
We got to know one of the vendors, a young man named Alfonso, who toiled all day long, up and down the ten-mile beach, carrying all of his goods, in the broiling sun and oppressive humidity, to earn a few dollars for his family. Charlie would always bring a bunch of dollar bills to buy stuff from Alfonso and, occasionally, we’d treat him to a hamburger and a drink while he told us about his wife and kids. We hooked up with Alfonso every year for many years, eventually meeting his wife and son… who also worked the beach selling other items. They did this every day but Sunday, always with a smile on their faces.
In America, it is fashionable in some circles to demonize “Mexicans” as dangerous and lazy, always looking for handouts. This is exactly the opposite of what I have observed in Mexico and in the U.S., as these people are friendly, hard-working, and have strong family values.
The only asshole we ever encountered in Mexico, over the many decades, was a crooked cop who took my friend Clark for $100 at the Tijuana border crossing.
He was no amigo.