The Border – and Beyond

In all of my anxious imaginings of what could possibly happen at the border crossing, with my entire house, I never in a million years could've dreamed up how it actually went...

I spent the night about 15 miles from the border and was on the road at first light (past experiences were always that super early on a Sunday were best) and got to the border with no problem.

There were only about 5 cars ahead of me. A woman officer came walking out directly to me and said (in Spanish) "You have to back up and turn around and go to the Mariposas crossing - just a few minutes from here" That’s the gist of it, we actually had a bit more back and forth and confusion on my part…but I didn't ask why, I just tried to find out how to get there. I had to reverse, careful not to hit the car behind me, and maneuver my way through a gates she opened for me.  It led into the US border crossing side, which was packed. Not super excited to have to cross the US border, the possibilities of horror slowly filtering into my brain. I was hoping it would be a non-issue since I was not actually in Mexico, but how could I be sure they knew that?! Someone finally let me cut into the lane and eventually it was my turn through the booth. I was going super slow because it was very tight. Two guards were waving me along. It suddenly became clear to all of us that I was not going to fit through. My mirrors were going to hit. We tried a little side to side and I got a bit more forward and there were more objects I was definitely not going to make it past. I couldn't even back up easily at this point.

The two officers were surprisingly cool in working through this. Over and above the fact that uniformed men in authoritarian positions cause me stress, I was also freaking out a little bit in general (my heart was pounding and my mouth has never been so dry). They asked if I could fold my mirrors in - nope that's not a thing. They were marveling at how “old school” and tank-like Rita was. They suggested making all the cars behind me move back, so I could back out and cut across 5 lanes to the wider one...That sounded kind of insane. I said 'what if we just unbolt my mirror?' One officer said, it looks like it doesn't come off...but, of course it did- it was just hex nuts, and I have a ton of hex keys...so I said “it’s just hex bolts, I have a ton of hex keys, let’s just take this off!”  One officer chuckled to the other “she says she has a ton of hex keys!” (the underlying tone was – isn’t it cute and surprising that a woman has tools?).  I managed to get the correct size hex key on the second try and they helped me and as I took the mirror off. These guys were clearly not all that mechanically inclined, but they took direction well.  Once the bolts were out, the mirror was still attached by a cable, for some now-defunct something or other, so we laid the mirror just inside in my window, half on the dash. That bought me almost a foot of space.

One guard stood straight ahead of me telling me exactly how to maneuver, while the other stood by my window, keeping me calm ("don't look at anything else, just look at him and do what he says, you got this"). We finally got me through, and one officer said “What were you doing in Mexico, anyhow?!” I said “I WAS NEVER IN MEXICO!” Luckily, the other officer had seen them turn me around from the Mex side and said “Yeah, I saw what happened” What a relief THAT was.  They just had to take my passport for a minute and then I was free to go. I’ve never been more relieved and was so grateful the US officers were really far more awesome than I could have imagined. At some point in the middle of all that, a lightbulb went off in my head and I realized “oooooooh, this is probably why the Mexican officer turned me away and sent me to the other crossing (which was for trucks). She probably already knew I wasn’t going to fit through that entrance.

I managed to find the other crossing, it was weird and long and like some kind of maze, and when I finally got to a guard, he just said “Thank you” and waved me along. I drove for about 15 minutes, wondering “was the hell was that?!?!” but eventually I came to another, more official inspection station. The guard checked my passport and compared my registration to the VIN and license plate, asked if I had wine, beer or guns. The, that was that. He even never looked inside. This all went down before 9:00 am. I had originally thought I might spend the night somewhere en route to the coast.  I still wasn’t even sure what coastal town I was going to hit first.  Since it was so early, I decided to make a day of it and just get myself all the way to the sea. I stopped at a little town called Imuris, to figure out where I was going, maybe get some food and just sort of catch up to the reality that Rita and I were in Mexico! As soon as I stopped, a guy with a cooler ran up to the door. Pedro was selling quesadillas and burritos (ah yes, I’m in the north where burritos are a thing (tiny things, but things no less)! We had a nice long chat and I bought a quesadilla. He loved Rita and helped me to make sure the bolts on my mirror were tightened down hard (because, they weren’t). I realized there was a bank I could walk to, so I was able to get some pesos, and something to drink at an OXXO.

It ended up being quite a long drive day, although not in kilometers, just the time and discomfort.  The discomfort was all mostly offset by a few levels of giddy adrenaline. I passed only one military checkpoint; I was in a big line of semi-trucks and I saw the guards up ahead pointing at Rita.  One ran over and waved us off to the left side for inspection.  The guard was a total sweetheart. He asked me three times if I was sure I didn't have any passengers...I finally said "Would you like to come inside and look?" He said yes, enthusiastically, like a kid being invited to a party. He also loved Rita and couldn’t believe I wasn’t traveling with my husband or boyfriend. I gave him a candy cane and he shook my hand three times. Quite painless, and a little bit fun, even.

My destination was Puerto Lobos, a tiny fishing town, which ended up being down five miles of washboard road. Fast becoming our least favorite thing ever.  The sandy roads of the little pueblo itself were not SO bad.  But I drove the entire village looking for a place to live. It was crowded with small, dilapidated, cinderblock and often part RV, home- abandoned and not. There was also a lot of very soft looking sand I was not keen to test.  None of the locations I tried from the my app were viable and nothing looked at all appealing.  I was pretty bummed, and my head was pounding and I just wanted to be done.  I nearly gave up on Puerto Lobos, and was about to go back to the paved road and head an hour farther south.  It was too late and the last thing I wanted was to arrive somewhere new after dark.  I went down a couple paths to check out some more options – the last one being the road to Playa Blanca.  It was a white sand road with white sand dunes piled up and several had drifted across the end of the road, so it was not possible to get all the way onto the beach palapas. I decided to turn around and just stop on the edge of the road by the dunes.  I figured I could at least get one night there and then leave in the morning.

It turned out to be the perfect spot – so quiet, private and I was not in anyone’s way. There was plenty of room for the daily (and nightly) ATVs and 4x4s to pass and fly out over the dunes.  It seemed that *maybe* there was a little tienda, I was hoping I could find some fish and veg soon.

I had a super quiet night, there was a beautiful sunset and I could hear the gentle waves far out in the distance.  I spent the whole next day there, and the day after that, and then a whole week. I chatted with some young boys who were waiting for their mom and baby sister to catch up from a beach walk. They told me where the tienda was, and that last year a couple from California came to this same spot in their camper. The 3^rd day was New Year’s eve.  I had already resigned myself to a solo holiday, but I did hope I might see some fireworks on the beach.   I finally resurrected my bike and rode to the tienda, to see what was what. I was hoping I could get some fish to cook that night. The tienda was pretty small and sparsely stocked, but I managed to get a couple zucchini, carrots, onions, garlic and tortillas (big, flour tortillas!). I asked if there was any fish.  The clerk did not look at me, but instead was poking at his phone – he was making a call.  When someone answered he asked if they had fish…but I heard the unfortunate reply, “no, no hay”.  I put my loot in my backpack and decided to ride around and see if I could run into any fisherman who might have something.

Not far down the road, toward the lighthouse point, a man was standing in the middle of the road, watching me approach.  He asked if I wanted almejas (clams).  I didn’t think I did, but I asked if he had any fish.  He said he did and told me to follow him a short way to his house.  He lives with his 2 brothers in a humble home that is half cement block, half old trailer, with a dirt floor and water views on either side.  They pulled out some shark and flounder from a freezer.  The bags were not well sealed and one had a hole. None of the fish looked appealing at all, even though they offered to fillet the flounder for me.  Seeing my hesitation, they pointed to a big tub behind me.  It was filled with water and live chocolate clams.   Seeing them, I was instantly reminded of having these up in the other side of the Sea of Cortez, while living aboard Summer.  They were actually very meaty and delicious clams.  They said I could have 12 for $200 (about $10US).  I didn’t think I’d be able to eat that many, so I asked if I could have 6 for $100.  They said of course and asked if I wanted them cleaned.  Not having to throw out the shells and messy stuff sounded like a great idea so I said yes.  We all chatted while Cristian opened and separated the clam meat from the shells and gross stomach part.  One of them got me a chair so I could sit.  The two younger brothers were planning to go to Nogales to celebrate New Year’s, but Cristian was staying home. They were curious to hear how I ended up there and I was happy to fill them in. They offered the lot next to their house, if I did not like where I was parked.  That was very sweet of them, but my spot in the white dunes was just perfect for me.   When the clams were ready and in a bag, I went to pull out my purse.  They said I did not have to pay – I was sure that is what I heard but I also doubted, thinking maybe my Spanish was rustier than I thought.  They said it again, it was ‘un regalo’ – a gift – I was floored – really?!? I couldn’t believe it. I thanked them profusely and said I would be back to visit again soon.  Cristian and I talked a bit more before I took off.  Both of their parents had passed away and the three brothers just stayed in Puerto Lobos. They have lived in this tiny town of about 200 people, for their whole lives.

I was planning to make the clams with garlic, butter and pasta – just a simple dinner for the end of a not-so-simple year.   Just before sunset, I packed up my second to last Maine Porter beer, my fleece jacket and a sarong and went for a walk on the beach.  If I timed it right, I could be sitting on the beach, enjoying my beer as the sun went down, for the last time in 2024.  When I was wandering along the vast, empty beach, my friend Jen called me. Perfect addition to my plan, spending sunset with my best friend!  When the call was over, the sun was down and my beer was empty. I trudged through the white sand to cook my clams.  I put some music on and got in a celebratory mood.  I was going to try to stay up till midnight, in hopes of some fireworks.  The hopes were not high, as several people already told me there would be none.  But someone had to have some! Just as my dinner was ready, another call came – my parents! We had a video call while I ate, so it was nice to have some dinner company, too.  After dinner, I decided to bake some chocolate chip cookies.  I was sure the clam brothers would enjoy them, and I was happy to share something with them for the clams.

In the distance I could hear music from 2 distinct places – family gatherings, no doubt (there certainly weren’t any restaurants).  At five till midnight, I went outside. The stars were magnificent, and although I could hear a few explosions, I never did get a glimpse of any fireworks.  I enjoyed the stars out in the cold, for maybe five minutes…then I went right in and went to sleep!  Not much of a wild night, but I was feeling super happy and grateful to be exactly where I was.

I biked around a bit the next day, with a dozen cookies in my pack.  Unfortunately, no one was home at the Clam boys’ house.  Perhaps they were out fishing or something.  I vowed to go earlier the next day.  I went to the end of town, and stopped to hike up to the lighthouse.  You could see the entire village from up by the red and white striped tower.  There were some nicer houses, but they all seemed abandoned, or maybe they were just seasonal homes?

The cell signal was pretty decent, so I was able to work just fine.  But I learned that my US plan gives me 2 GB fast data per day and after that it slows down considerably.  There is not an option to pay for more, it just is what it is.  I realized I was going to need some sort of back-up plan, and it wasn’t going to happen here.  I was also running low on water and diesel for my heater (yes, I was running it every night).  Seemed like it was getting to be time to head to the next town south, Puerto Libertad,  The town of about 2,000 people and seemed to have “everything” – gas station, groceries, Telcel, water.  I was planning my exit for day six.

When I finally caught Cristian at home, he was very happy to receive the cookies and made no promises he would save some for his brothers!  We talked for a while, and a little too much of the conversation went around how it was possible that I didn’t want a boyfriend (eyeroll).  I finally extracted myself to spend the afternoon working.

The next morning, when I was shaking out my rug, a couple who had been collecting cans on the beach, stopped to chat.  Ramon and Flora have lived in Puerto Lobos for many years.  More years than they had teeth, to be sure.  They told me about other visitors they’ve met and other ‘Americanos’ who had homes there.  They were most impressed by a Czechoslovakian guy who had spent several months there, while sleeping in a very tiny car.  Ramon drew a box in the sand to show me how small the car was, and exclaimed several times that the man was from another country – so far away it was on another map!  I met someone else later who also mentioned the Czech traveler. I guess he made quite an impression on people.  I am grateful that my Spanish seems to be stronger than ever, and I am able have interesting conversations with all these people.  I also learned there was another tienda, bigger and with better prices – called Walmarcito (little Walmart).  It was a few blocks farther out, near where Ramon and Flora live.  I had to check it out.  It was bigger, but there wasn’t much that I needed. I got some avocados and bolillo.  I was sad to discover that almost every kind of Jumex juice now contains high fructose corn syrup.  Just a few years ago this was not the case.  There’s only one or 2 kinds in the special black cartons that are mostly natural now.  I guess I will stick to making my own jamaica (hibiscus) tea.

When I returned to Rita, a white pick-up truck was coming down the road.  The driver stopped and we chatted for a bit. Steve is from Phoenix and owns the yellow house right on the beach.  He said he drives down every couple of weeks to hang out here.  He asked me if I needed anything, help or supplies or whatnot –that was very kind of him. I told him I was fine, as I had just come from the Walmarcito.  He had never heard of it, and was surprised to know there was another tienda in town, apart from the small one at the main intersection.  This is when I began to suspect Steve does not speak any Spanish. I might be wrong about him, but there are certainly a lot of people from the US who use Mexico as a personal playground and don’t bother to understand the people, culture and language. It boggles my mind that people can come to this country and buy a house and not make an effort to speak Spanish.  Really, it’s downright lazy and rude.

I decided to take off the next day and head an hour south to the slightly larger town of Puerto Libertad.  I needed water and to improve my cell data situation.  My “unlimited” plan turned out to have a limit in Mexico – 2 GB of fast data per day and once that is used up, it slows way down – making online meetings very frustrating. I wanted to get a TelCel chip for my old iPhone to use for back up when needed.

It turned out that the south road out of town was much shorter and a bit less washboard-y than the road I came in on. I was super grateful for that! Rita really feels like she is going to bust apart on those roads. It can’t be good for her!  Even though so many things have launched out of cabinets and fallen onto the wooden floor, miraculously, not one thing has broken yet. I’m always incredulous the floor isn’t covered in shards of glass after every dirt road adventure.  I accidentally left my glass water filter pitcher on the counter the other day and it crashed to the floor, and soaked the rugs and seeped in between the floor boards.  I have no idea how it’s possible it didn’t break.  Maybe Rita is a magic bus??

The ride was otherwise sort of pretty, a little bumpy and not overly exciting. I did pass a huge, miles-long solar array. That would be cool to visit and learn more about sometime.  I imagine it is part of/related to the power plant that overshadows Puerto Libertad.

As I was approaching the town, I passed two police cars, parked so the officers could chat with each other.   I had the erroneous thought that they probably wouldn’t even notice me.  Luckily, I just barely noticed the flashing lights behind me and we didn’t have to get into a low-speed pursuit situation.  I know there is no way I will ever get stopped for speeding in Rita, so I was curious to see what this was going to be all about.  I definitely have anxiety about interacting with police, so my heart was pounding a little, but not too much.  To be honest, Mexican traffic police don’t actually worry me that much, they’ve definitely pissed me off, but never scared me.  As the portly office waddled up to my window, I greeted him with a cheerful “buenos dias!”  He asked me where I was coming from, so I said “Puerto Lobos” and he asked me where I was going and I said “Puerto Libertad”  Then he simply smiled and wished me a good day! That was that.  I was relieved, pleased, and felt welcomed to the town.  As I was driving away, I realized it was a missed opportunity to ask a lot of questions.  Still probably best to have as little interaction with the police as possible.

I ambled through the town, just seeing what was what.  There was one paved road and the rest appeared to be dirt.  I turned down a road near the end of town and happened upon a water purification shop.  I stopped in to see if they could fill my tanks.  They said $200 pesos (about $10) to fill up with purified water.  Seemed like a good deal, so I pulled Rita in to get near the hoses.  We tried and tried but there was no way to make their water hose fit into Rita’s intake.  I asked if they just had regular water from a spigot that I could have?  They did and I was able to fill up both tanks.  I had a nice chat with Hilario, who was not at all annoyed at how much time it was taking to fill up. In our small talk, I learned a new word I somehow never knew before – “prisa” – hurry – he asked me if I was in a hurry and I had no idea what that meant, but managed to appropriately shake my head no (I have a lot of experience getting through conversations successfully when I might not understand everything!).  I guess after nine years of living in Mexico, I was never in a hurry?

I got a lot of great info from Hilario - where to find the TelCel store, the grocery store and the best tacos.  They didn’t charge me anything for the water, either.  I purchased a 20-liter garrafon of purified water, just to have as back up in case my LifeStraw water pitcher didn’t actually do a good job filtering the hose water (supposedly it will filter everything but viruses!).

The little grocery shop was right next to the TelCel counter, which was inside the ferreteria (hardware store). Everyone was very friendly and I was super pleased with the efficiency of this stop. Groceries, a new TelCel chip, and a cool pressurized spray canister, that I thought would be handy for things like washing my feet off when coming in from the beach (believe it or not, this was actually on my list to buy and the little hardware store had the perfect thing).

I was starving, so I decided to hunt down some tacos.  I found a great place and got some delicious barbacoa tacos and a jamaica.  As I was eating, an older gringo couple arrived with a young Mexican woman.  She was clearly their guide/translator.  They loudly enjoyed their tacos and were happy to learn ‘cabeza’ (head) tacos were not made with cow brains.  They clearly spoke no Spanish, nor had any interest in learning.  I finished my tacos and headed back to find the Pemex for my diesel fill, and then locate a spot on the beach to hunker down for a while.

The Pemex had handwritten signs that they did not accept credit cards.  I definitely didn’t have enough pesos to fill Rita up, so I just got my tanks filled for the heater diesel. It’s always a process getting these tanks filled.  I have to take a couple of bins and the bucket containing my water fill hose out, struggle to unlatch the ratchet strap tie-down I use to keep the diesel tanks in place, unscrew the one with the heaterpick-up nozzle, put the nozzle in a glass jar so diesel doesn’t get everywhere and finally get both tanks out.  Getting the full ones back in is a bit harder, as I only have one regular cap.  I put the cap on one, heave it in and get it situated atop the spare tire, take the cap off and replace it with the pickup nozzle. Then I can use the cap to close the other tank and get that one heaved into place, and then strap everything down again.

Both tanks were nearly empty, and two full tanks will last me about two weeks, when used nightly.  Since the cost of diesel is much higher in Mexico, I estimate a monthly heating cost of around $70-$80 US.  It is not going to warm up any time soon in the areas I am able to visit. I’m still trying to get a handle on how much this life costs!

As I was getting the tanks back in, the gringa woman from the restaurant appeared and asked me about Rita.  We had a nice chat – turns out she and her husband live in Tucson and have a place in Puerto Lobos – just like Steve. They had traveled into Puerto Libertad for supplies, with the help of their translator.  She marveled at Rita and the fact I was on my own. I (silently) marveled at people who own property here and don’t bother to learn Spanish.

The Pemex was right on the dirt road that teed into the beach front road.  It was sandy and not too rough; I just drove down until I came upon a row of palapas.  I noticed there were trash cans held in special wooden frames, across from every palapa (that was very exciting for me, the struggle to offload trash is real!).  Just as the palapas ended, the road got decidedly rougher. I turned around and positioned myself just off the drive lane, behind the last palapa. There appeared to be a drive lane on the beach side of the palapas, as well.  My spot was not encroaching on anything, was fairly level and only about 20 meters from the water. Seemed perfect!

I spent the next almost-two weeks right there.  I worked a bunch and finally felt like I could unwind and get the alone-time I’d been wanting for a very long time.  I biked into town a couple of times for groceries and a TelCel issue (that company is spawned from the depths of hell, I am sure).  The town was so small, that it felt rude to lock up my bike, so I just left it out front of all the tiendas and it was always fine.

I tried to do a bit of a ride to the south as well, to see how far the road went.  There were frequent 4x4s zooming off in that direction.  The road didn’t go far and the sand got very soft. And the beach didn’t look any different from where I was staying, so, kind of seemed pointless to do that again.  Every day I watched the line of wind on the water, coming toward shore.   And it would blow hard, all afternoon.  I barely went outside. I had a beautiful view from inside, so I was happy to be cozy in Rita.  I could lie in bed and have a snack, and watch dolphins jumping as the sun set.  The dolphins came by early in the morning and just before sunset each day.

I waved at people I saw going by, but as I was rarely outside, interaction was limited. No one ever stopped to chat and certainly no one ever knocked on the door.  A private security truck went by every day and the police would pass by once or twice a day.   I felt very safe and isolated. People seemed to barely even notice me.  I realized the first time biking back from town, Rita was mostly invisible until you got right next to her. The way I parked, she was basically hidden by the last palapa, even though it felt like I was exposed on a huge, wide-open beach.

Given the water and diesel situation, I figured I would head down to Bahia Kino (2.5 hrs)  or maybe even San Carlos (4.5 hours) when two weeks were up.  A few days shy of that, we had one of the windiest nights ever (just after the full moon) – Rita was buffeted around like people were outside shaking her.  I was over it, I needed something a bit more peaceful and some more human interaction.  I also had a lot of things I needed to take care of – like finding a mechanic, doing laundry, getting water, cash, diesel, (Pto Libertad had no ATM and the gas station didn’t take credit cards, so that was a bit of an impossible situation).  It was time to move on.

I wasn't feeling like my weather apps were super accurate, but it seemed possible that San Carlos was a bit warmer at night – sometimes maybe even 5-10 degrees warmer.  Bahia Kino actually seemed colder.  I opted to skip Kino for now (there’s always time to check it out later) and make the long haul down to San Carlos/Guaymas area – vastly more populated and well stocked.   I had already identified a little shop that sells organic products and I had been messaging with the owner. I was looking forward to meeting them and supporting that kind of business.  I had also joined a San Carlos group and was getting a lot of information, and connecting with some friendly folks.  I felt ready to get back into some kind of community or maybe even make friends?  I say maybe because, I am still an introvert, afterall.  I told myself that anytime it got to be too people-y, I could always take off for a couple weeks of solitude in Puerto Libertad.

I wasn’t that excited about a long drive, but if it was awful, I could always stop for a couple nights in Bahia Kino.  I got Rita all picked up and ready for the road.  I check under the hood and looked all around.  When she was warming up, I noticed something dripping from underneath. It wasn’t the usual little oil leak. I saw active drips and I was sure it was transmission fluid.  Transmission issues have been on my radar for ages and I was planning to get the system flushed in San Carlos.  I noticed a line in the sand – so I backed her up and check it out.  It was about a foot long line of definitely transmission fluid.  I checked and she was low.  I was worried, but not overly so.  I figured I would add fluid and we would be able to make it to San Carlos.  I stopped for as much diesel as I could spare pesos for and asked the woman if they sold transmission fluid. They did not, but she told me where the refaccionaria (auto parts store) in town was.  I ended up finding it quite by accident (as I was trying to get back to the water place first).  I got a 5 liter jug of transmission fluid and ended up putting about 3 liters into Rita (she takes 17 overall, so it wasn’t that much in the scheme of things).  Just up the street was the water place.  I just filled one tank – I didn’t want to be too greedy, and I figured I’d find someplace else.  Hilario was not there, and the young kid, with a cigarette dangling from his mouth, engrossed in his phone, was happy to ask for $50 pesos for the fill. I didn’t mind paying, even though it was free and far more interesting last time.

I got myself some road snacks lined up and set off, promptly taking a wrong turn and having to turn around. It was almost 11:00am, which is the latest time I hoped I’d finally get on the road.  It was not a bad drive, sometimes very narrow, and terrifying when a big rig passes in the other direction, sometimes terrible pavement, sometimes smooth pavement and sometimes surprise potholes that could swallow Rita.  But the transmission felt/sounded good (or at least different than it had been??). It was good to have some movement again.

The map estimates on how long it takes to get somewhere seem to be more accurate here in Mexico – I think it’s because the speed limits here are more reasonable and Rita can actually keep up.  The 80 mph speed limits in Texas are unachievable!

When Bahia Kino came up, we were making good time, feeling good, and looking forward to getting some things done. We pressed on to San Carlos/Guaymas.