Drivin’ Into Brownsville, USA

Tuesday we crossed the Rio Grande into a parallel but different world, Brownsville, Texas. We’re back, three days short of our six-month maximum allowed Mexico visit.

The trip was easy, a familiar route mainly on country roads. Chuck had the big chore, driving the often bumpy, patched road. Worst was the unfinished new highway from Lagos de Moreno to the lovely new road circling dramatic mountains and meeting Hwy 57 east of San Luis Potosi. It looks just as it did last year…smooth concrete parallel to the old road, but empty, blocked off with dirt, no workers! The old road continues to deteriorate. Rough roads just shake up the trailer! I played the IPod,took pictures, annoyed the cat, read Jeannette Walls’ The Glass Castle, an amazing memoir.

Rumors abound about the possibility of thieves near the border targeting tourists, so we did what we could to be prepared, mainly by carrying computer backups on small drives, telephone with emergency numbers, contact lists, extra cash and credit cards in hidden pockets. We traveled with rig unwashed, so we wouldn’t look too grand! All unnecessary, but it got us organized and made us feel we’d done what we could. Though the road was lightly traveled at times, here were so many military caravans and checkpoints that it’s hard to imagine how anything could happen! No close-ups of these masked, flak-jacketed guys with big weapons!

We spent two nights in large all-night Pemex gas stations with big truck lots. The first, La Estación, north of San Luis Potosi, has a restricted access lot with sign-in security! Quiet. Lovely. The next, at the Reynosa/Matamoros 97/101 split, has a hotel and shops. But: noisy trucks came and went all night, parking just a couple of feet from us! Earplugs. Pillow over head. Never park in the middle. Pemex attendants are extremely amiable. Though it’s not necessary, we always ask if we can stay. A smile, friendly word and a funny remark about the road makes us all feel good!

At one point where the road made a sandy jog, we decided that we must be near the beach, there’d been seagulls last night! Then a very friendly guy pulled his dusty old grey car alongside to assure us we could keep going, there was a good place to stop for the night ahead. Until he showed up with encouragement and directions, we’d no clue we’d slipped off the main route!

The third morning’s jaunt through rolling green hills with old stucco cottages and fields of corn brought us to the Matamoros Port of Entry. This sign points the way to the International Bridge ahead … and…huh?

 

Border officials at both Matamoros and Brownsville had some new, fancy procedures. When the Mexico Customs guy came to get our truck permit, he also photographed the truck ID number on the door post, scanned the ID sticker number before removing it from the window, and printed a receipt for us with the same classy new compact device.

  The long vehicle line moved slowly across the Rio Grande. When we met the US Customs inspector, he shuttled us to the side for inspection. As unusual, we ignored the questions about liquor and plants to chat about food…our beef, pork, eggs and fruit. To no avail, they had their own priorities. Sad to say, Kathi, they took the Christmas cactus you gave us – the one that survived several chow-downs by the cat, and finally had a really good bloom fling this December. We also lost our painstakingly acquired air plant collection that just last week Chuck installed in a newly made  hanging display! All were no doubt immediately incinerated. I stepped aside for the BIG dog inspection, he was a strong silent type. 

After the inspection, it was on to a big X-ray machine! While we waited outside with cat, a tall metal column moved slowly past the rig. Nothing was revealed; we were free to go. Through all this, no one’s ever picked up the bunk to look under it. Maybe that’s where the plants should have been.

All we’ve see in Brownsville are MILES of slick, new shopping centers, strip malls and big box stores! Natural peanut butter!! And Chuck got a new laptop that dwarfs mine, darnit!

Here at Winter Haven 55+ Campground, a 25-40 knot wind has swept the park site for two days. There’s nary a soul around, I think they all went back up north. The ferocious wind’s been hard on small birds. This poor squirt, blown from the nest, looked for his folks for two days, doomed to fall from his perch and be pecked by grackles. Nature is tough, but birds generally build a new nest and start over when a brood has been lost. A mocking bird with two long grass stalks streaming from its bill struggled through a weaving lift-off. And nothing stops the doves from courting!

Crossing the Border

November 15, 2009
We're heading for Mexico!
C&G beginning a fourth six-month RV trip to Mexico. We're bringing our full-time home along: our RV-with-no-name, a 27-foot Laredo fifth-wheel trailer, towed with a 2000 Dodge 2500.

The night before crossing into Mexico at Lukeville, AZ, we stayed at beautiful Organ Pipe Cactus National Monument & United Nations Biosphere site. G took a walk around the campground in the last hour of the day… cactus wrens danced in the brush at my feet. And a jackrabbit raced away with long black tail and pink, black-tipped ears glowing as he ran into the sunset.

This small-town border crossing into Sonoita, MX was a breeze, no waiting. A word and a wave through Mexico Customs. “No, senor, no guns, no goods to sell. No, no liquor, solo un poco tequila and rum!” Sonoita is a mix of old and newer buildings, with a modern motel, and several street stalls selling black, green and camouflage backpacks. Seventeen miles in was the Migracion check-in and Banjercito office where we paid our fees. The Migracion official himself stepped out to tell us where to park and invited us in. Two young women in the bank cheerfully typed the tedious truck and trailer forms. We chatted with a couple going to their boat in Mazatlan, and greeted a group of Mexicans heading north to their home in SF. Then we were off, Chuck appreciating the mostly good blacktop road, some of it with wide shoulders. The empty countryside looked just like the dry Arizona desert we left behind.

Santa Ana, Sonora.

In late afternoon we reached the small Punta Vista Campground in Santa Ana. There was Edgar on the street waving the RV’s in! We’d been here before, in 2006. Ana (American) and Edgar (German) first invited RVs to park behind their house in ‘86, and keep a ledger listing every visitor. During our last visit, Edgar discussed his heritage with me, then out of the blue said, “and you’re Finnish! “ Oh, you’re right! Wow. In their yard, two black dogs stand on their doghouses, and there’s a family of several grown black cats. Wind chimes hang from trees, with plastic storage containers as clappers. Untended local plants are left to grow…or not. We welcomed the electric and running water, because there was none at the park the previous night! Next morning, we drove on to San Carlos.

San Carlos, Sonora.
As we drove into San Carlos, we wondered why the town did not seem quite so nice as we remembered….then realized that they’d recently been hit by a bad hurricane! Workers were repairing a road washout at the Totanaka Campground, where we stayed. It's, just across the road from the beach, though it’s a bit pricey at 300p/night (the exchange is just under 13p/1$). The next day, we visited sailing friends Jinx and Mad Dog on their boat in Marina San Carlos. The scenery and clear Baja sky is stunning, the blue ocean and the stark hills dramatic.                                                                A recommended restaurant for tacos was closed, so we stopped at the “Who Cares” taco joint, a group of tin-roof shacks. We enjoyed the waiter who answered most questions with “Who Cares!” and a laugh while fixing limonadas and liquados. We tested our rusty Spanish and smiled at the cook, working over black pots at her stove. The food was fine (not super), the experience great.

We then found the BEST market – open air with tables under awnings, offering everything from fresh veggies in cold cases and coolers to WONDERFUL mahi-mahi, huge shrimp and other fish, homemade tortillas, local honey, and even American goodies like canned pumpkin. The friendly staff spoke English, but were delighted when we tried, "shrimp sin cabeza, por favor." We went home, ate half the mahi, shoved the extra into the freezer, and cooked the BIG shrimp to eat with salad tomorrow. We’d have enjoyed a few days exploring beaches, but moved on - we wanted to reach Jocotepec before Thanksgiving!