The journey continues

Saturday, January 3, 2009

We have to wait for the insurance adjuster to come and bring the final paperwork.
As Ramiro writes his recollection of the accident, he refers to the male driver of the truck. There seems to be a discrepancy. According to the report to the other insurance, there was a female driver in the truck. We have no idea what the driver’s reason is for covering up, but this could cause problems down the road. The adjuster suggests to leave out the word “male”, or it could result in the insurance not paying either party and we may be held responsible for damage to both vehicles. This is the corruption we hear of so often when it comes to countries like Mexico. We are not used to having to deal with this sort of thing at home. We tell the truth, period!

We finally leave the empty park at 9:30 pm after paying the $ 25.00 per night camping fee. The front of the RV looks pretty decent compared to yesterday at this same time.

We decided not to drive the 450 kilometers to Mazatlan today, but plan to stop south of Culiacan instead.
We’re both very nervous and say a little prayer before we start driving. Our motto is “take your time, and pay attention”. As if we haven’t done that all along. I am Ramiro’s second pair of eyes, focused on the road and on the little monitor in the front, which shows everything that’s happening behind us.
We enter a four lane divided highway with wide shoulders. This certainly helps reduce some of the tension.

With the mountains at the horizon, we pass large fields of sugarcane, corn, potatoes, beans, cilantro and peppers. There is so much to see as we pass through the villages or alongside the larger cities.
We’re continue to be amazed by the different lifestyle here in Mexico. Anything goes. There don’t seem to be any rules, or at least rules that are being followed. What we see driving on the road is something else. Tractors, with large pipes sticking out, or farm equipment driving at 20 km per hour holding up the traffic behind them and causing safety hazards. In general, the quality of vehicles has improved a lot over the past ten year. Buses are luxurious and nicer than our Greyhound buses. We only see the odd beaten up car, most cars in the cities are newer models. In the country we see the contrast, but that’s no different at home.

Free enterprise is something else, anybody and their dog is able to start some kind of business, whether it is along the road in an actual building or at the toll booth.
At the first toll booth, dozens of people walk around with bags of oranges, crafts, blankets, sugarcanes or dried beans. I try to take pictures but every time something is in my way. I finally give up. I already learned that taking pictures from a moving vehicle does not alway work.

I chuckle at the way Ramiro challenges the toll fees. They see this big North American rig and figure they can charge the four axle rate. No, Ramiro says. We should only be charged for three axles, two for the RV and one for the dolly. The car axles are ON the dolly. Sometimes he wins, but most of the time they win. By the time we leave Mexico, we own the toll roads.

Driving through the city of Culiacan is the most nervewracking of all. It’s Saturday and everyone seems to be on the road. There is no option to use a bypass road. We have to go through the centre. Cars come from all directions, lanes are not visibly divided.
Drivers are aggressive and do not let us change lanes. I drink at least a liter of water during this half hour of hell, my mouth is so dry. Ramiro’s knuckles are almost white as they are wrapped around the steering wheel. I keep on encouragin him. “We’re doing good, keep going. Change lanes before the second street ahead, we’ll be turning right there. There is a motorcylce right beside us”. He stays relatively calm.
We both let a big sigh of relief once we see the signs to Mazatlan and are outside the city limits. Our underwear is still clean.

Half an hour south of Culiacan and 8 km west, via a small country road, we find paradise as Las Cascabeles. A huge recreation area with cabins, beautiful trees and a large lake.
It’s only 3:30, we can still enjoy the rest of the afternoon. The first thing we do is sit outside with a drink and enjoy the view of the lake. Ramiro finds a Hibiscus flower, which he brings to me. “For my “kleine kuikentje” he says in Dutch. He can be so lovable.
We hear the pigeons and see so many birds, woodpeckers, yellow finches, cranes, small, colourful parrot like birds and big, mean looking vultures.
I’m in heaven and listen to the cooing of the pigeons while I enjoy my drink.
I see a tree full of black birds right in the lake and walk over to take a picture. Sandflies everywhere. After spraying our legs with bug spray, to keep them away, we wander around and notice the cabins, the swimming pool, tennis court, go cart tracks, ball fields, and another pool. Further down the path is a wave pool and two giant waterslides. There are souvenir shops, soda bars in the pool, pizza huts and picnic tables everywhere. But we are the only visitors, the place is empty. We see some workers and learn that the months of January and February are used to clean up. In March the Mexican tourists come, Holy week being the busiest of all year. It’s too cold for tourists now we are being told. Too cold? It’s 23 degrees, it’s wonderful! They smile, not for us Mexicans, this is winter.
Some North Americans come here to spend the night in their RV, just like we do. But not today.

We return to the RV, which is parked along the road so we won’t have to take the car off. We do have water and electricity, but no sewer. Ramiro BBQs the beef we purchased two days ago and after dinner, we sit on the sofa and listen to a Leonard Cohen CD. This is so peaceful.