LA PAZ TO MAZATLAN- JOURNEY TO THE MAINLAND
Not too long after we waved good bye to our new friend, Gord, a beat up old pick up truck swung by and the pleasant smile of Sergio, the driver invited us to ride with him.
At first, we didn't realize that he was going all the way to La Paz, where we were headed, to catch the ferry over to Mainland Mexico. We only thought we'd be squashed like a couple of sardines into the front seat of the pick up truck for a few hours, which seemed bearable.
As we chugged and bumped our way back on to the highway, two things became very obvious, this was going to be a long journey, no matter how long the duration in real time and that our driver, Sergio liked to drive fast in his exhausted little truck!
The road from Loreto to La Paz is fairly winding and the beautiful desert mountains seem to shimmer and burn in the midday sun. Sergio didn't speak too much English but seemed happy to take us with him on his journey to pick up a cargo of fish. We grasped on to the curves of the Mexican Highway 1 in Sergio's poorly vehicle, which coughed and spluttered at various points and demanded that we stop every now and then, so that Sergio may fill its leaking tank with oil. We struggled and moaned quietly, as we exacted the yoga type stamina required, to stuff our asses into the ancient seats which cajoled and bullied us into contortionist style positions, so that we might stay upright as we surfed the bumps in the road.
It was around the time that the exhaust pipe fell from the underneath of the truck that Sergio pointed out that he had to go all the way to La Paz to receive his cargo. We were halfway there already and we decided to accompany him all the way, after all, now that the exhaust had fell off, we were pretty sure that Sergio would ease up on his speed from now on.
We squashed ourselves back in to our seats and with a reassuring smile, our driver and host, proceeded to bomb it as fast as he could down the highway. I'm not sure exactly how old Sergio is, maybe in his late fifties, early sixties but one can't help wondering if he may yet still have time to make it as a race driver, I can see him now, honest, intelligent eyes,
unconcerned smile, beneath his creme cowboy hat, blasting around the race track, hell for leather and no time to stop for nobody.
When we were about an hour away from La Paz, we were pulled over by a Mexican cop. He sternly asked us to leave the vehicle and after a few minutes of questioning Sergio, the cop started quizzing me and Metso. In these situations, I would do the speaking, as my poor Spanish was slightly more comprehendible to the Mexicans, than Metso's poor Spanish.
The cop asked us where we were from, what we were doing in Mexico and what our relationship was with Sergio, I must have answered satisfactorily, as he let us go and with only a light scolding to Sergio, to kill his speed for the rest of our journey.
As we took off, Sergio seemed suitably chastised by the cop and explained in Spanish that the cop who stopped us, had told him that he wasn't a race driver and to stop driving so fast!
We arrived safe and disheveled at La Paz and bid farewell to our sweet little race driver as he swerved back onto the Mexican Highway 1 and was swallowed instantly, by the huge snake of traffic which writhed and glistened beneath the hot blue sky.
We stayed one night in La Paz, in a cheap and small hotel, it was a good feeling to sleep in a bed, after five weeks of camping and to have a semi hot shower also felt luxurious.
The next day, we made our way to the ferry ticket office, only to be told that the boat to Mazatlan no longer leaves from La Paz and that we had to take a bus about an hour out of town, where we may embark on our ferry journey to mainland Mexico.
We arrived at the ferry terminal and whilst we were waiting to book our ticket to Mazatlan, we met a young guy called Pascal, from Montreal. Pascal was also traveling to mainland Mexico and we spent the next couple of days traveling together.
The boat ride to Mazatlan takes 18 hours, we took the lead of various other passengers, after boarding the ferry and reserved a few seats each by placing our packs and coats across them, so that we would be able to stretch out and sleep that night. A lot of the passengers on the boat, were Mexican truckers taking cargo to Mexico. They usually sleep in their truck cabins, which meant that there would be plenty of space for the foot passengers to relax and get some sleep when the sleepy veil of night eventually fell over us.
It was a fair day and as we made our way out on to the deck, I was blown kisses from random directions, as the Mexican guys drank beer and smiled at us, seemingly unaware that it was considered very bad form to stare and blow kisses at young ladies, even in parts of Mexico! I blew a kiss back to one old Mexican guy who was being particularly seedy
in his amorous gestures and he nearly fell overboard!
We whiled away the day, drinking beers and chatting to our fellow travelers, I played some guitar for one group of guys who were really lovely, they enjoyed chatting and no doubt found my appalling broken Spanish quite amusing. One man gave us a souvenir Baja t-shirt as a gift and we distributed some beer and cigarettes amongst our shipmates. It was a very pleasant evening and we were even invited by one of our new trucker friends, to stay in his truck cabin, rather than having to sleep on ferry seats but we declined his offer and
and actually enjoyed quite a good night's sleep as our boat soared through the Sea of Cortez and on to Mazatlan.
I awoke at around 6.00am and went to watch the sunrise with Pascal and a sweet young Mexican kid that we had met the night before. The sun appeared as a molten phantom, strange and dislocated but as always, beautiful and awe inspiring.
Eventually, the modern tower blocks and skyscrapers of the city emerged and seagulls bobbed alongside our boat as we made progress towards Mazatlan, in an hour or so, we docked in the harbour, our boat trip at an end and our journey into the mainland just beginning...........
Not too long after we waved good bye to our new friend, Gord, a beat up old pick up truck swung by and the pleasant smile of Sergio, the driver invited us to ride with him.
At first, we didn't realize that he was going all the way to La Paz, where we were headed, to catch the ferry over to Mainland Mexico. We only thought we'd be squashed like a couple of sardines into the front seat of the pick up truck for a few hours, which seemed bearable.
As we chugged and bumped our way back on to the highway, two things became very obvious, this was going to be a long journey, no matter how long the duration in real time and that our driver, Sergio liked to drive fast in his exhausted little truck!
The road from Loreto to La Paz is fairly winding and the beautiful desert mountains seem to shimmer and burn in the midday sun. Sergio didn't speak too much English but seemed happy to take us with him on his journey to pick up a cargo of fish. We grasped on to the curves of the Mexican Highway 1 in Sergio's poorly vehicle, which coughed and spluttered at various points and demanded that we stop every now and then, so that Sergio may fill its leaking tank with oil. We struggled and moaned quietly, as we exacted the yoga type stamina required, to stuff our asses into the ancient seats which cajoled and bullied us into contortionist style positions, so that we might stay upright as we surfed the bumps in the road.
It was around the time that the exhaust pipe fell from the underneath of the truck that Sergio pointed out that he had to go all the way to La Paz to receive his cargo. We were halfway there already and we decided to accompany him all the way, after all, now that the exhaust had fell off, we were pretty sure that Sergio would ease up on his speed from now on.
We squashed ourselves back in to our seats and with a reassuring smile, our driver and host, proceeded to bomb it as fast as he could down the highway. I'm not sure exactly how old Sergio is, maybe in his late fifties, early sixties but one can't help wondering if he may yet still have time to make it as a race driver, I can see him now, honest, intelligent eyes,
unconcerned smile, beneath his creme cowboy hat, blasting around the race track, hell for leather and no time to stop for nobody.
When we were about an hour away from La Paz, we were pulled over by a Mexican cop. He sternly asked us to leave the vehicle and after a few minutes of questioning Sergio, the cop started quizzing me and Metso. In these situations, I would do the speaking, as my poor Spanish was slightly more comprehendible to the Mexicans, than Metso's poor Spanish.
The cop asked us where we were from, what we were doing in Mexico and what our relationship was with Sergio, I must have answered satisfactorily, as he let us go and with only a light scolding to Sergio, to kill his speed for the rest of our journey.
As we took off, Sergio seemed suitably chastised by the cop and explained in Spanish that the cop who stopped us, had told him that he wasn't a race driver and to stop driving so fast!
We arrived safe and disheveled at La Paz and bid farewell to our sweet little race driver as he swerved back onto the Mexican Highway 1 and was swallowed instantly, by the huge snake of traffic which writhed and glistened beneath the hot blue sky.
We stayed one night in La Paz, in a cheap and small hotel, it was a good feeling to sleep in a bed, after five weeks of camping and to have a semi hot shower also felt luxurious.
The next day, we made our way to the ferry ticket office, only to be told that the boat to Mazatlan no longer leaves from La Paz and that we had to take a bus about an hour out of town, where we may embark on our ferry journey to mainland Mexico.
We arrived at the ferry terminal and whilst we were waiting to book our ticket to Mazatlan, we met a young guy called Pascal, from Montreal. Pascal was also traveling to mainland Mexico and we spent the next couple of days traveling together.
The boat ride to Mazatlan takes 18 hours, we took the lead of various other passengers, after boarding the ferry and reserved a few seats each by placing our packs and coats across them, so that we would be able to stretch out and sleep that night. A lot of the passengers on the boat, were Mexican truckers taking cargo to Mexico. They usually sleep in their truck cabins, which meant that there would be plenty of space for the foot passengers to relax and get some sleep when the sleepy veil of night eventually fell over us.
It was a fair day and as we made our way out on to the deck, I was blown kisses from random directions, as the Mexican guys drank beer and smiled at us, seemingly unaware that it was considered very bad form to stare and blow kisses at young ladies, even in parts of Mexico! I blew a kiss back to one old Mexican guy who was being particularly seedy
in his amorous gestures and he nearly fell overboard!
We whiled away the day, drinking beers and chatting to our fellow travelers, I played some guitar for one group of guys who were really lovely, they enjoyed chatting and no doubt found my appalling broken Spanish quite amusing. One man gave us a souvenir Baja t-shirt as a gift and we distributed some beer and cigarettes amongst our shipmates. It was a very pleasant evening and we were even invited by one of our new trucker friends, to stay in his truck cabin, rather than having to sleep on ferry seats but we declined his offer and
and actually enjoyed quite a good night's sleep as our boat soared through the Sea of Cortez and on to Mazatlan.
I awoke at around 6.00am and went to watch the sunrise with Pascal and a sweet young Mexican kid that we had met the night before. The sun appeared as a molten phantom, strange and dislocated but as always, beautiful and awe inspiring.
Eventually, the modern tower blocks and skyscrapers of the city emerged and seagulls bobbed alongside our boat as we made progress towards Mazatlan, in an hour or so, we docked in the harbour, our boat trip at an end and our journey into the mainland just beginning...........
