We decided to head out of Cataviña the next day, as the rain showers and
heavy grey clouds threatened heavier rains to come and the boulders would be
difficult to negotiate on our way out of the arroyo when wet.
We walked a couple of km's into town and saw a young Mexican guy tending
to his truck.
We approached him and asked if he would take us to San Ignacio. We wanted
to say hello to a lady called Sylvia who lives there, she kindly let us stay
in her vacant house for a few days last time we were in San Ignacio and we
wanted to take her some gifts and catch up with her.
It is a 9 hour drive from Cataviña to San Ignacio on the Mex 1. The truck
driver courteously (if a little apprehensively) agreed to take us. So we
set off.
The driver, Lou, spoke no English. He pumped up the volume of his c.d.
player, which was screaming out the Bee Gees when we first jumped into his
truck and we barely spoke for a couple of hours, when he did speak, it was a
rapid fire Tijuana dialect and we had trouble understanding his questions
and answers.
One thing that we did understand though, when he pulled over at a nearby
truck stop and brought out some tin foil loaded with little white rocks, was
´´ Crystal´´. He smiled and proceeded to chase the crystal dragon through a
straw, for a couple of minutes, before starting up his truck again and
heading back out out on the Mex 1.
One thing you come to realise pretty soon, when hitching rides with the
Mexican truckers, is that a lot of them depend on some sort of amphetamine
drug to keep them awake on their long and hazardous journies.
We had seen the truckers dissolve pills into their big cups of black
coffee in the past but it was the first time we had witnessed a driver using
crystal.
Lou likes to blast his music at ear piercing volume as he blasts down the
Mex 1 highway. He played some great music. Along the way, the truck bumped
and rolled to the cool sounds of Boys don't Cry (The Cure),Rock Lobster
(B52's), Sweet Child 'o' Mine (Guns 'n' Roses, which is an awesome
soundtrack to be driving through the desert with) and a lot of other cool
songs screamed our climb and descent through the vast desert hills, on our
journey to San Ignacio. We also played Psychic Cat. . .
After stopping to do some more crystal and check his tyres, Lou turned
the music up a little more and we were on our way again. . . .
Weaving our way through the giant boulder covered hills, with the
mountains in the distance, we drove into the twilight and very soon, through
to the dark. The sun sets fast here and night takes hold almost in the blink
of an eye.
The Mex highway 1 is extremely narrow, therefore driving at night is very
tricky. There are huge cows in some areas, that wander the desert in a
drunken daze and we see them sometimes, kicking out from the side of the
road. They're afraid of the trucks and the trucks are equally disdainful of
them!
As we drove at break neck speed into the night, the road bacame harder to
define and our driver, Lou, began to make the sign of the cross from his
head to his shoulders when approaching various curvas peligrosas (dangerous
curves). He would also make a short and rapid whistling sound through his
clenched teeth which we soon understood to be a sign that some remarkable
feat of truck driving was going to be required imminently.
The numerous road signs which warned that there was to be no overtaking
on this stretch of the highway, were either invisible or meaningless to Lou
and we were reminded yet again that you need balls of steel to be a Mexican
truck driver.
Lou had protection though, he would make the sign of the cross, start his
nervous whistling sound and we would hold our breath (and sometimes close
our eyes) as he pulled out past a fellow trucker or trailer, to over take
them and go screaming past, up the hill or round the bend in the black
night.
Probably the most exhilerating and skin crawling kind of anxiety you will
encounter whilst riding in a Mexican truck, is when you are at the bottom of
a very steep hill and up ahead the grimacing lights of another truck are
racing towards you from the top of that hill. It is at this time that, no
matter what your religious beliefs are, you may just want to make the sign
of the cross yourself, or at least hope that the god watching over your
driver friend, also takes a little divine pity on your sorry soul too!
I think that we earned our balls of steel that night with Lou but I had
the distinct feeling that ours were caught somewhere between our stomachs
and our throats for most of the journey. . .
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