Health News
We wanted to get an early start for our 13 hour drive to Ensenada. We planned on leaving about 6 AM so that we would not have to drive in the dark. Cows, goats, and coyotes like to hang out on the road at those times. Since the road does not have a shoulder, just an abrupt drop off that would easily roll over your car, you need to stay alert at all times. At 5 AM, the Mexican music started, at concert levels. It was coming from one of the only shade trees on the beach in front of the place we were renting. Apparently, the occupants of the car wanted the entire neighborhood to share in their choice of Sunday morning music. By the time we hit the shower; the police had paid them a visit and asked them to turn it down. They lowered the volume to where we were about to talk without shouting. It is really not helpful to be confrontational in these situations since they know where you live. It is extra beautiful in the morning, with the sun rising over the mountains on the mainland. We had a full tank of gas (about half the cost of gas in the U.S. - go figure). My wife was on cow-watch. We arrived at the first of a half-dozen military checkpoints on our trip north. The federal troops, although intimidating with their machine guns and sandbag bunkers, are very respectful and surprisingly young. I am guessing most were teenagers. We found it easier not to speak our elementary Spanish - it helped convince them that we are just dumb tourists and not drug or gun-runners. They routinely tap on all of the door panels, top rack, etc. looking for hidden contraband. They only looked in the back of the heavily loaded camper shell once. As you might imagine, traffic was light through the desert. The most frightening and sudden encounters are with huge trucks barreling down the road, taking up most of it. One really hates to make those decisions like "hit an 18-wheeler" or "fly over the thousand foot drop-off". Your butt tightens when you need to pass a slower vehicle, but truckers routinely signal when it is safe to pass by putting on their left turn signal. Once you learn to trust the signal, it makes it easier. I don't recommend Baja driving for the fearful. There are dangerous and bad drivers everywhere. Mexico is no exception. I did not see one infant or child strapped in a car seat . An idiot in a truck; wife and a lap child in front seat, passed me on a blind curve and nearly hit another car head-on. He wanted to get one car closer in the upcoming military checkpoint. He ended up passing me at high-speed later on down the road. Off in the distance, I spotted a plume of black smoke. Oncoming cars were flashing their hazard lights. There was trouble ahead, for sure. Knowing that a dozen or more drug dealers were killed the day before in Tijuana and the increasing presence of the Mexican military, all made us very uneasy. A van was burning along side of the road. There were no people (or bodies) around. Like the other drivers that slowed, we drove on. It was not clear when the accident occurred or if the car was just torched. Our brains were flooded with scenarios. At least it wasn't that truck with the baby. We were advised NOT to stop and help stranded motorists, since they may be setting you up for a car-jacking. My plan was to quickly drive beyond the stranded motorist (assuming they looked safe); stop with the motor running, and leave bottles of water and/or food. I would indicate that we would send help from the next town. Fortunately, we did not have to make any of those very difficult decisions. For whatever reason, we decided to stay back at the noisy Joker Motel (again) in Ensenada. From miles away, we could see a large fire burning on the hillsides. I wanted to drive to the U.S., but it was now dark. There were three rooms left, so we were put back in the room we had used one week prior - perhaps it was the Gringo Room. The other ninety-seven rooms of this motel were being occupied by the military as a bivouac. (This picture was taken from our window.) We were either going to be very safe, or a target for this ongoing war with the drug lords. It was quieter this time. We did not go out to have dinner. Too bad; it was my birthday. The next morning; our last in Mexico, we drove to Rosarito to do some quick shopping. We love the pottery and iron work done by the local artists. While looking for a rusty metal lizard for a friend, we admired a huge metal gazebo. It was ornately welded with hundreds of vines and grape leaves and stood about twenty feet high; about 12 feet in diameter. It was supported by four metal posts, also ornately decorated with vines and leaves. To make a long story a bit more interesting, I bought it for $350 when the artist agreed to cut it into four manageable pieces that could be reassembled, and would fit on top of my truck. We looked like someone moving, or heading for a junkyard. If I had a mattress and a few barrels tied on the top, we would have really looked Third World. (That white-haired man with the matching white legs is me.) "Did you purchase anything while you were in Mexico?" said the Border Agent as his eyes gazed at the contraption tied to my truck. I smiled and said, "No." He laughed and waved me through. We made it home safely, gazebo and all. Now, I have one more day-off project on my endless list. It is good to be home.