VIVA MEXICO!
4 a.m. - sprinklers awoke us at Sweetwater Regional Park. Two naked gringos moving (ok - dragging) their tent through the bushes… hope lots of people saw us. About 30 minutes later the traffic started, so there was no more sleeping. Lots of coffee, a slow pack job, and off to Tecate (~45 minute drive). We talked strategy most of the way - making sure we had the same answers to questions we might get asked. Where are we going? Do we have return tickets to the United States? Do you live together/why are there different addresses on your paperwork? After a 30 minute drive in a near desolate landscape (worrying the whole time we might run out of gas), we creep up on Tecate. We get gas (phew! Lesson learned), get some Mexican auto insurance (not sure its worth anything, but we plan on doing all that stuff for each country), and then take our final breaths as we head towards the crossing. And we decide to keep our headsets on so we can listen and talk the whole way. Go time! First border crossing! The first thing we notice is these enormous bumps in the road - not perpendicular speed bumps, but basketball sized dot bumps zig zagged in front of us. I.e., no one on a motorcycle can weave between them, and they are 10-12” high so they are like cement moguls. We ungracefully make it over three or four rounds of these things, and then someone asks us to stop. An arm like barrier is in front of us. This is it! Inquisition time! We have all our paperwork dangling around our necks in dorky Eagle Creek travel wallets! We wait… a man says when the gate lifts we should both go. We wait… the gate lifts… we go. Within one city block we are on Main St. in Tecate and stuck behind a truck fixing a pot hole. “That was it?” Ernie says. Tara is thinking the same, but too overwhelmed to speak. We (again) ungracefully get ourselves out of the way of the the truck/pothole situation and follow signs for Hwy 3 to Ensenada. We talk each other through each step. “Stopping at this stop sign” or “Making a right to follow the highway”. It was perfect. Perfect nervous gringo.
We stopped about 45 minutes later at an OXXO (mini mart) and got some bananas, water, and a coke. Sat in the shade and regrouped a little - probably both of us needing to take a minute to realize WE ARE IN MEXICO DRIVING SOUTH FOR MONTHS. (Which will take just a bit longer to sink in I’m sure). Next stop was Ensenada - and somehow we picked the perfect place to stop in town. It was in the heart of downtown - next to the big mercado. Colorful, happy, vibrant. Ernie went to find an ATM while I stayed with the bikes. Three mariachi bands (yep - three - at four adorable old men each) passed and visited and wanted to know all about the bikes and la guitara on Ernie’s bike. Lots of smiles.
When Ernie got back from the ATM we figured we should look at a map and see where we might go (as it was only about 11 am). Our map said “La Bufadora” was a point of interest, had camping, and was about an hour away. We didn’t know what “La Bufadora” meant, but it was on a beautiful point on the map - protruding out into the Pacific (and we wanted to see the ocean!). The drive was wonderful - our first sights and smells of Mexico. The road got twistier and we both wondered where the heck we were going and what we were going to see. Eventually a community appeared - right on the coast - beautiful water and rocks and kelp. Community employees yelling at us where to park. They give us a sweet spot right in front of the entrance to La Bufadora, which appeared to be a half mile long street of shops. Shirts, leather goods, dulces, pan, churros (yum), cerveza, strange Christian themed paintings and statues, etc. While we were both enjoying the colors and goods and smells and sights, I think we were both a bit disappointed that the point of interest was a row of shops. Cool shops, but shops none the less. I asked Ernie how far he wanted to walk, and he said (as if it should be obvious) “to the end”. So we did. And wow was he right. At the very end was a 100 foot plus blowhole (turns out thats what bufadora means). Loud and sprayed the crowd like that idiotic stuff at Sea World. And all of us loved it! Awwws and Ahhhs and Eeeee’s. Great reminder that some things aren’t cultural - they aren’t tied to being of a place - they are just human.
Oh - and saw lots of open ocean farms on the drive to La Bufadora. I’m guessing tuna (cry cry cry) but I’ll have to do some research. I really wanted a picture, but the road didn’t provide a safe place to pull off. And not so surprisingly, the farms are hidden from the scenic views at La Bufanda.
At a little camp just east of Bufadora a neighbor is playing some tejano. Some morons in the distance are shooting off fireworks (sorry - but if you wanted to celebrate 4th of July, why did you leave the USA this weekend?). We stopped down the street before bettling into camp to buy firewood and tamales. Dos carne, dos pollo. Ernie says “I’d like to mention how neatly tied together they were with those little knots out of corn husks. And the cauldrons they were cooked in. If I’ve had a tamale that good before I can’t remember.” Super friendly camp host - his mother started this campground in the 1940’s when people came here to buy shark livers from local fisherman. There was only a dirt road back then, so this whole part of Mexico has grown immensely in his lifetime. He said “we need more of you and your good vibrations in Mexico”. Roger that hombre.
4 a.m. - sprinklers awoke us at Sweetwater Regional Park. Two naked gringos moving (ok - dragging) their tent through the bushes… hope lots of people saw us. About 30 minutes later the traffic started, so there was no more sleeping. Lots of coffee, a slow pack job, and off to Tecate (~45 minute drive). We talked strategy most of the way - making sure we had the same answers to questions we might get asked. Where are we going? Do we have return tickets to the United States? Do you live together/why are there different addresses on your paperwork? After a 30 minute drive in a near desolate landscape (worrying the whole time we might run out of gas), we creep up on Tecate. We get gas (phew! Lesson learned), get some Mexican auto insurance (not sure its worth anything, but we plan on doing all that stuff for each country), and then take our final breaths as we head towards the crossing. And we decide to keep our headsets on so we can listen and talk the whole way. Go time! First border crossing! The first thing we notice is these enormous bumps in the road - not perpendicular speed bumps, but basketball sized dot bumps zig zagged in front of us. I.e., no one on a motorcycle can weave between them, and they are 10-12” high so they are like cement moguls. We ungracefully make it over three or four rounds of these things, and then someone asks us to stop. An arm like barrier is in front of us. This is it! Inquisition time! We have all our paperwork dangling around our necks in dorky Eagle Creek travel wallets! We wait… a man says when the gate lifts we should both go. We wait… the gate lifts… we go. Within one city block we are on Main St. in Tecate and stuck behind a truck fixing a pot hole. “That was it?” Ernie says. Tara is thinking the same, but too overwhelmed to speak. We (again) ungracefully get ourselves out of the way of the the truck/pothole situation and follow signs for Hwy 3 to Ensenada. We talk each other through each step. “Stopping at this stop sign” or “Making a right to follow the highway”. It was perfect. Perfect nervous gringo.
We stopped about 45 minutes later at an OXXO (mini mart) and got some bananas, water, and a coke. Sat in the shade and regrouped a little - probably both of us needing to take a minute to realize WE ARE IN MEXICO DRIVING SOUTH FOR MONTHS. (Which will take just a bit longer to sink in I’m sure). Next stop was Ensenada - and somehow we picked the perfect place to stop in town. It was in the heart of downtown - next to the big mercado. Colorful, happy, vibrant. Ernie went to find an ATM while I stayed with the bikes. Three mariachi bands (yep - three - at four adorable old men each) passed and visited and wanted to know all about the bikes and la guitara on Ernie’s bike. Lots of smiles.
When Ernie got back from the ATM we figured we should look at a map and see where we might go (as it was only about 11 am). Our map said “La Bufadora” was a point of interest, had camping, and was about an hour away. We didn’t know what “La Bufadora” meant, but it was on a beautiful point on the map - protruding out into the Pacific (and we wanted to see the ocean!). The drive was wonderful - our first sights and smells of Mexico. The road got twistier and we both wondered where the heck we were going and what we were going to see. Eventually a community appeared - right on the coast - beautiful water and rocks and kelp. Community employees yelling at us where to park. They give us a sweet spot right in front of the entrance to La Bufadora, which appeared to be a half mile long street of shops. Shirts, leather goods, dulces, pan, churros (yum), cerveza, strange Christian themed paintings and statues, etc. While we were both enjoying the colors and goods and smells and sights, I think we were both a bit disappointed that the point of interest was a row of shops. Cool shops, but shops none the less. I asked Ernie how far he wanted to walk, and he said (as if it should be obvious) “to the end”. So we did. And wow was he right. At the very end was a 100 foot plus blowhole (turns out thats what bufadora means). Loud and sprayed the crowd like that idiotic stuff at Sea World. And all of us loved it! Awwws and Ahhhs and Eeeee’s. Great reminder that some things aren’t cultural - they aren’t tied to being of a place - they are just human.
Oh - and saw lots of open ocean farms on the drive to La Bufadora. I’m guessing tuna (cry cry cry) but I’ll have to do some research. I really wanted a picture, but the road didn’t provide a safe place to pull off. And not so surprisingly, the farms are hidden from the scenic views at La Bufanda.
At a little camp just east of Bufadora a neighbor is playing some tejano. Some morons in the distance are shooting off fireworks (sorry - but if you wanted to celebrate 4th of July, why did you leave the USA this weekend?). We stopped down the street before bettling into camp to buy firewood and tamales. Dos carne, dos pollo. Ernie says “I’d like to mention how neatly tied together they were with those little knots out of corn husks. And the cauldrons they were cooked in. If I’ve had a tamale that good before I can’t remember.” Super friendly camp host - his mother started this campground in the 1940’s when people came here to buy shark livers from local fisherman. There was only a dirt road back then, so this whole part of Mexico has grown immensely in his lifetime. He said “we need more of you and your good vibrations in Mexico”. Roger that hombre.