El Coyote

After walking the 3km to the Pemex at the edge of the dirt road from San Ignacio, we saw a Mexican trucker, called Jose, with lovely green eyes and black curly hair and ran over to ask him if he'd take us to the town of Mulege. He said 'si' and we put our stuff in his cab. Jose is a very sweet guy and the journey was very pleasant, with Jose cracking jokes on his c.b. radio to his companion who was following us in his truck behind. Unfortunately, we couldn't understand much of what he said but our language differences didn`t stop us all having a good laugh when he would pretend to shoot the rabbits and birds that darted across our path in the afternoon sun. Jose would also pretend to shoot at us with his fingers when we wouldn`t accept his kind offers to share his soda, biscuits or cigarettes. Such is the generosity of so many of the truckers who gave us rides through the Baja.It is not enough that they share their truck, their time with us, not to mention taking us distances of hundreds and hundreds of miles but they also shared their kindness and good humour. We will always think of them as our guardian angels and made a point of saluting all truckers along the highway with the Baja wave, which is kind of a peace sign that allows the truckers to wave without taking their hands off the wheel. We jumped out of Jose`s truck after leaving him a pack ofcigarettes and walked about 1km into town but we knew Mulege and decided to head straight for the campsite before it got too dark. After walking in along the highway, in the hot hot heat for another 2km, we arrived at the Orchard camp site. There wasn't much grass around so we headed for the next campsite, Villa Maria Isobell, another 2km along the road. When we arrived, it was evident that the Villa Maria campsite was geared towards motor homes and tourists who need swimming pools at their campsites (need I say, not our kind of place!) so we decided to head for the beach to camp which was about a 40 min walk from the Villa Mara campsite. We were pretty tired and hungry at that point, so we made our way back to a sign we had seen for a restaurant on our way to the last campsite. When we arrived at the little R.V. site, we saw that the restaurant was closed, disheartened and bewidered by our luck, we scratched our heads and wandered towards the exit when we were spotted by the owner, Ken, a friendly America chap who invited us to join him and his family and friends for dinner at the restaurant, which they closed to the public on Sundays. We gratefully accepted and removed our hot, heavy back packs to sit down to what was a veriable feast of delightful dishes, cooked by Ken's family and friends. We ate a Mexican dish of chicken and melted cheese and fruit salads with rice, finished off with a delicious Mexican desert called Flange. Deeeelicious! With our bellies full and the sky now bursting with stars, we made the short trek to the beach, it was very hard to see where we were going, even with our torches shining and when we arrived at the rocky beach, we realised that this was no spot to camp, there was debris everywhere and an abandoned, creepy atmosphere which was forboding to us at that late hour.We were at a loss as to where we would stay that night. The first campsite that we had visited, the Orchard, was by far the best place for us but it was a 4km walk back down the highway and after our long day and the risky buisiness of walking along side the highway at night against us, we started to think that we might have to pitch our tent by the dirt road that runs along side the beach. Along this dirt road, are a few houses, owned mainly by Americans, I knocked on a couple of doors to ask if anyone knew of any places to camp, closer than the Orchard campsite, in the vain hope that someone might have a back yard that we could pitch our tent in for the night, (it was now about 9.15pm) I was met with confusion and abrupt refusals, one American guy even told me to speak English! So, we sat by the road side and waited and waited.... and waited. Eventually, a Mexican lady and her young son drove by in her pick up truck. I flagged her down and asked her if she would take us to the Orchard campsite, she smiled and said ''si !'' Hallelujah! With the merriest of hearts, we jumped in the back of her pick up and were well on our way when we realised that my back pack was still lying on the road some way behind us! We knocked on the window and in a worried flurry explained that my bag had been left behind, by this time, she'd got the drift of what had happened and was already reversing her little pick up truck all the way back to where she had picked us up. All was well and when we arrived at the Orchard campsite, we had to force our lady driver to accept a couple of dollars for her kind and valliant actions that had so helped two tired strangers out that night. we pitched our tent at the peaceful Orchard campsite and went to sleep thanking our lucky stars for the kindness ofstrangers once again. The next day, we made a hitching sign for El Coyote, a little beach that our friends, Bill at Playa de Oro had told us to visit. In about 20 mins, a kind Mexican guy took us there in his pick up truck. When we arrived at the El Coyote trailer park, it was derelict and abandoned and had been for many years. We kept walking to the beach and found it to be absolutely lovely. The days and nights that followed at El Coyote can only be described as wonderful. We had found a large palapa building at the far end of the beach, which we had assumed to be a bar/ restaurant and finding no one around to object, had pitched our tent in front of it. This proved to be an excellnt decision, as the owners never showed up for the five or six days that we chilled there and so we were able to make use of their very sweet patio which was a luxury for two beach campers used to rocks for chairs! We would sit at nights, watching the stars which were very,very beautiful and bright, in the big round chairs from the palapa patio.We ate baked potatoes, tuna and guacamole around the camp fire and I would play El Niño whilst Metso practiced playing his harmonica that we picked up in L.A. Other times, we would go and eat fabulous chile rellenos (large chillies stuffed with cheese) at the little restaurant, Estrella del Mar by the highway, a short distance from El Coyote beach and shoot pool with the very sweet owner Bonney and his friends. There are a couple of beer stands in the area, a shortwalk along the highway from El Coyote and here you can find beer, water and basic provisions. One day, we're getting cigarettes from one of the beer stands that sit along the highway, when a Mexican guy and his wife invite us to join them for a beer and to play some guitar. I usually carry El Niño around with me, as the people here LOVE music! If there is an opportunity to play, sing or dance (or preferrably all three), you can be sure that the locals will seize it as readily as a thirsty man will seize a bottle of water (or beer if available!). That day we played and sang our songs and had a lovely time.The Mexican guy had the sweetest voice and played very well, he sang songs old and new from Mexico and I sang a few of my tunes old and new also.....By the afternoon, we had ourselves a little party, as we had been joined by a couple of local fishermen, Daniel and Angel and a very odd but entertaining pair, Iris and her hilarious partner, known by the locals as the Pink Panther, due to his skinny, pale demeanour. Daniel and Angel shared their catch of fresh clams with everyone and they were really delicious. They showed us how to remove the stomach before eating and which sauce went best with different types of clam. Iris and the Pink Panther entertained everyone with their dunken banter and I sang a few songs. As the cerveza and the afternoon sun kicked in, the party was in full swing and our friend, the Pink Panther, was in the mood to get free and natural. Franco, the lovely owner of the little beer stand, had put on some pretty cool electro party music and it was doing things to the PinkPanther, making him wan to jump on the table and pull down his shorts to swing his thing for his new friends! Well we all applauded at first but eventually after the third or fourth exposure to the Pink Panther`s tackle, we were hiding our faces and the topic of conversation had moved onto size and his friends were having a good laugh at the Panther`s expense, all in good fun of course! At night fall, we bid farewell to the party in favour of dinner at Bonney's and a few rounds of pool before contentedly crawling into our little sleeping bags for some well earned sleep! The next day, we were informed by our fishermen friends, Daniel and Angel, that the Pink Panther and Iris had been taken to the Mulege jail for the night but no one seemed to know why. Needless to say speculation and intrigue blossomed and it was to everyone`s good natured amusement that the Pink Panther had entered into legendary status for us all, as the most notorious guy in town! We found quite a few new friends at El Coyote, one of whom was some what better behaved than the Pink Panther but very fun to be with and we will treasure the night that we spent on the beach with our friend Gord from B.C. We had met Gord at Bonney's place and he asked if we felt like going to his trailer to play some guitar and shoot the breeze on our last night at El Coyote. Gord sang songs by Steve Earl (one of my heroes) and AllenJackson and I played some of my songs. We had a lovely evening with some fine conversation and enjoyed Gord`s enlightening and inspiring view of the world. At the end of the evening, Gord very graciously offered to take us to the little town of Loreto the next day, from there we could hitch a ride to La Paz. We accepted his kind offer and the next day, we spent the afternoon with Gord in the lovely little town of Loreto, where we shared lunch together and some wonderful stories about Gord`s fascinating life. It was hard to continue with the days travelling, as we could easily have spent the whole day having fun with Gord but eventually, we bid farewell and he dropped us off at the Pemex(gas station) just outside town, where we made our hitching sign for La Paz and waited for our next ride.

San Ignacio - Sweet Oasis

Lou dropped us off at the dirt road which turns off the highway and into
the sleepy little Oasis town of San Ignacio.

We walked the 3km walk into the town, glad to be walking again and looking
forward to eating the delicious tacos from the taco man who has a stand in
the small town square.



The road into town is lined by tall date palms and the surrounding lagoon
makes night time walking an eerie and exotic experience, the voices of all
the nocturnal creatures that inhabit the area creating an alien chorus to
welcome the two tired travellers.

We came face to face with a rather big, grumpy bull which gruffly ran
across the road and threatened to charge. We kept walking and I nervously
wondered what we would do if the big guy decided to take us on. Metso said
we should stand our ground so I quickened my pace somewhat!

We arrived at the very pleasant El Padrino camp ground which is just on the
outskirt of town, where we pitched our tent for the night, before heading
into the town square for our late night tacos from our trusty taco man,
which were, as always, delicious.



The town square of San Ignacio is the heart of the town. A lovely white
church stands at it's edge and watches over the activity. Children play and
neighbours meet here, the caballeros (herds men) eat tacos and all is well
in this really good little town.

The next day, we were greeted by the two piglets that live on the grounds,
very cute!We met a nice couple, Sue and Royson who were travelling in their
very sharp motorhome and a musician called Katrina, who was just leaving,
she had been travelling all over the states, busking with her guitar but we
didn't get chance to hear her stories maybe some other time.

After grabbing some huevos rancheros (Mexicna breakfast with eggs and
tortillas) in town, we went in search of our friend Sylvia, the lovely lady
who let us stay in her vacant house on our last visit to San Ignacio, over
a year ago.



She and her husband were gathering papayas and cleaning the grounds of
their old tyre/car workshop, which is now for sale. When she saw us, Sylvia
dropped her broom and came running over, very pleased and surprised to see
us.

She took us back to her house and we ate nachos and chatted with her
daughter Grethel for most of the afternoon. Sylvia doesn't speak English,
so our conversations are mostly made with hand signs and smiles.

After a lovely afternoon with Sylvia and her daughter, we were invited back
for breakfast the next day, we gratefully accepted and headed back to the
campground.

We built a fire and Sue and Royson, the couple we had met earlier, came
over and asked if we felt like having fish for dinner. We did! They had
brought them fresh from Bahia de Los Angeles, the day before and were
cooking them with garlic and squash and all kinds of tasty stuff.

Our dinner was lovely and later, Sue and Royson came to sit by the fire and
share some stories and listen to some songs. I played Wings in Motion and
Hot Lips. It is a real pleasure to play for people we meet along the way,
especially by the flames of an open fire with new friends.



Sue and Royson told us stories about their travels and we told them some of
ours, we had a lovely evening and were mighty grateful for the delicious
fish they had so kindly shared with us.

Breakfast at Sylvia's house, the next day was very nice. She and her
daughter, Grethel, made us waffles with eggs and bacon and syrup mmmmmmmmm,
thanks Sylvia!

After finishing breakfast and bidding fairwell to Sylvia and Grethel, we
walked 3km to the Pemex gas station to catch our next ride to the town of
Mulege.

Balls of Steel - Cataviña to San Ignacio

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. . .