Vanag’n Shenanigans

The Burly Beast purrs like a kitten. We have had very few hairballs considering the number of miles we’ve asked her to take us day after day.


However, north of Mazatlan she died. Mike’s initial diagnostics indicated battery problems. A kindly soul appeared out of nowhere and gave us a jump and some ice cream packed in an orange peel as a treat and we were on our way.

We have several back-up batteries and an internal battery charger that allowed us to start her the next day---but we knew there was an issue that needed to be addressed.


Out came the Bentley Manual, a.k.a. the Vanagon Bible. Mike traced the problem to the alternator and cleaned the brushes. This worked, but we feared it wasn’t the complete solution.


As we were leaving our site in Celestino, Teo, an ex-pat, off-handedly mentioned there was a good VW mechanic in Mazatlan. “There’s a guy. His name is Victor. His place is easy to find.” We got the directions (south on the malecon, turn left at the aquarium and the road dead-ends at his shop) and we were off.


Victor and his crew removed the alternator, replaced the regulator and brushes, and reinstalled it on the spot, all for $51.


Then there was the day we came upon a flock of buzzards eating carrion in the middle of the road. Our approaching vehicle dispersed them and as they flew over head they shat upon us. Like no other odor known to man. We had to stop on the side of the road and try to rinse off the Farf. This was not enough.


We sought out an Auto-Lavado to have her scrubbed down. Sadly, the guy doing the job somehow broke the hinges on our spare-tire gate at the back of the vehicle.


Next we sought out a solderada (welder) to repair said gate.

Four Dollar car wash; $30 gate repair. Good as new.
Other than these shenanigans, we have been tooling down the road quite nicely.

Mike’s Fish Tales

Mike purchased fishing gear before we left the States. He fished his way down Baja with only one edible fish, a sea bass, to show for his efforts.

He has continued to dip his line in the water in several of places we’ve stopped along the Pacific coastline.


When initially asking to buy bait he was met with incredulous looks from the locals who simply said, “Just go catch the bait on the beach.” Mike spent time digging for clams and caught one crab, but not before trying a bit of chicken and then a bit of pork on the line.


Chicken and pork do not make good bait. Digging for clams left him wet and bait-less.


Mike wondered what Jeff Schweitzer, avid fisherman and owner of Laughing Ladies Restaurant, would do. He bought camarrones (big ones!) that could double as dinner should he fail again.


Here is a picture of that night’s ‘Catch of the Day’. Delish!

Further along the mainland coast, using a lure, Mike had a big strike. We don’t know what kind of fish it was, but a local said it was edible and good to eat. They cleaned it for us for half the fish, and we had it for dinner that night.

So, we last left you in Celestino Gasco, just north of Mazatlan.



Mexico is a BIG country and we have traveled down Mex 200 along nearly the entire Pacific Coast. We’ve kept a pretty strong travel schedule, driving 150-200 miles a day, and then tucking into a beach for a night or two.


We let go of the dream of getting to Guatemala in time for my sister-in-law’s grandmother’s 100th birthday celebration on December 20th, though we still anticipate connecting with my brother’s family before they head back to the States.


It has been a string of beach after beautiful beach--each one having its own personality of waves, sand, views, people and vibe. We’ve enjoyed each location in its own way but after a while the heat and humidity started to melt our brains and we welcomed the left-hand turn into the interior of the country as we headed to San Cristobal.

We are now in San Cristobal and will be here through Christmas. It is a colonial city dating from the 1500’s and is at the heart of many different indigenous communities. The city is entirely walk-able and we have been exploring on foot for several days. We are staying in a great little campground on the edge of town with a bucolic feel. It is a sanctuary in a bustling city and we feel we are in a perfect spot to spend Christmas.

We wish all of our family and friends a Merry Christmas and all the best for 2010.


Trish and Mike

Eight weeks into our trip and I was in need of a haircut as a) I usually get my hair cut every 5 weeks, b) I do not have a blow dryer with me (Can you imagine?!), and c) We’ve hit hot, humid weather that increases the volume of my already-thick hair by a factor of three. It really was a bushy mess.


Yesterday we stayed in an RV park just north of Mazatlan. I could write volumes on RV parks & RV people but we’ve found them to be convenient places to spend a night as we press south.

Mike got up early and took Missy Chettie for a romp on the beach. I looked out the slider to see him engaged in conversation with some folks from Canada. (As an aside, among the RV crowd, we are seeing a 3 to 1 ratio of Canadians to Americans. Perhaps due to the economy or the bad press Mexico has gotten in terms of safety, the Americans seem to be staying home this winter.)

Okay, back to my hair. Once the coffee was made I headed to the beach and ran into the same people Mike had met. I asked the woman, quite impulsively, “You don’t cut hair, do you?” “Well, I cut dog hair.” “Really?”


I cajoled her into giving it a go.

Diane had all the tools of the trade: grooming scissors, electric razor, thinning shears, and even a smock that I suspect she usually wore when working on her clients but that she had me wear as she began. I’m sure she was more nervous than I.


While we were at it another neighbor came by and said, “Oh, I didn’t know you cut hair. Will you do mine?” This is how these things get started.


My hair looks great. I am relieved to be rid of all the weight of it. Several times during the day yesterday Mike looked at me and said, “You know, it’s really a pretty good haircut.”, “It’s really not that bad at all.”, And the left-handed compliment of, “You’ve definitely had worse haircuts.”

I just reply, “Woof.”

So what is a plan if not something from which to deviate? We have made many plans and promptly deviated from them over the last two weeks. I’ll spare you the details of each fork in the road as I try to catch you up on where we’ve been.

For those of you who don't need a travelogue, I'll just say we are having a great time. We've seen some beautiful places and met some interesting people. As each day passes we fall more into the rhythm of life on the road. We've met several travellers doing the same type trip we are doing and its fun to share experiences....sometimes just for a moment, other times for a drink, a meal or an evening.

If you want to know where we've been, here's the catch up travelogue:


Indeed, the wind blew at Punta La Gringa. And blew and blew and blew. Thought we were back in Salida. We were situated in such a way that the wind was coming across the bay and hitting the little van broadside. Buffeted we were. You had to lean into the wind if you went outside.

Finally, Mike and Chet went on a recon mission and we moved the van over a bluff and into the next cove north and were somewhat sheltered from the wind. New views!

Mike broke out the fishing pole and after catching a poisonous puffer fish, caught a sea bass that we filleted right on the beach and cooked for dinner. Delish!

We left the next morning with the wind still blowing and headed to Guerrero Negro. My expectations for this town were low and we were pleasantly surprised at the vibe. It had a beach-town feel and had every service one might need. We took advantage of the services and stayed at a hotel/RV park right in town the first night. Internet! Dinner out! Showers!


Guerrero Negro is located just inland from a large lagoon that is one of the breeding grounds for gray whales. There is a huge salt plant there that is the primary economy for the area, despite the tourists who come to watch the whales. We are a little too early for the whales which start to arrive later in December, but we did spend a night on the lagoon none-the-less. To get to the lagoon, we had to pass through the salt plant....really weird landscape and as close to a snowy scene as we'll probably get this winter.

Being ‘off season’, we had the lagoon to ourselves and it was beautiful.

From there we headed across the desert toward Santa Rosalia. We made a brief mid-day stop in San Ignacio which is a palm-studded oasis in the middle of the desert, situated on an underground spring that makes the town a lush anomaly in the cactus strewn desert. It has an old mission right on the plaza that was once the most successful of all the missions in Baja.

As we drove away from San Ignacio, we both had that wistful feeling when you leave a place you would have liked to explore more. On to Santa Rosalia.

Arriving in Santa Rosalia was a shock after being in so many isolate places. It is a bustling city on the Sea of Cortez, whose link with the sea is more about shipping than tourists on beaches. Moreover, it had been hit hard by recent hurricanes and the seemingly chaotic town was a bit in disarray.


After making a few laps up and down the streets, we realized some of the frenetic feel was coming from so much construction to clean up and rebuild some of what had been washed away. The streets are narrow and crammed with all kinds of shops.

Santa Rosalia is also one of the ports for the mainland ferry. Here we had a decision to make: continue lollygagging south through Baja and miss my brother and his family in Guatemala at Christmas, or take the ferry from here and keep that dream alive. We opted for the ferry, and promised ourselves that we would return to Baja and spend the time it deserves for exploration.

With our ferry plans in place, and with the ferry not leaving for two days we opted to backtrack to San Ignacio (about an hour drive) to really embrace the town. We both felt right about the decision to return and we enjoyed our time there as we knew we would.

We met a great couple from Germany traveling in a Eurovan (our vehicle made friends for us) and we camped together one night in San Ignacio. They, too, are headed for points south and we shared email/blog information in the off-chance we are in Panama ready to ship our vehicles at about the same time.

We arrived in Santa Rosalia for the second time ready for our over-night ferry crossing to Guaymas only to find that because of rough seas the ferry wasn’t leaving until the following morning at 6am. What to do, where to stay? We decided to camp in the parking lot of the ferry terminal—seemed like the thing to do for such an early morning departure. We were not the only ones camped out, but we were among the lucky ones who had their beds with them. Several people had arrived as walk-on passengers and had to spend the night in the terminal. Everyone was a little fuzzy the next morning. The ferry eventually left at 8am for the 9 hour crossing.

We were told Chettie had to stay inside the vehicle for the trip. I had heard some tragic stories of animals not surviving such trips and with tears in my eyes we left the windows open a crack, gave her plenty of water, locked the doors and went to the upper deck to find a seat. Imagine how I felt when she spied me taking pictures of the vehicle and began to whine.

Once on deck we saw another couple with a dog. We worked our way down to the vehicle and freed Chet.

Let’s talk here about rules. The captain of the ship was the one who told us our dog must be inside the vehicle, but once underway we were able to not only bring her with us but actually access our vehicle. We’ve taken several other ferry rides and never, ever have we been allowed back to where the vehicles are loaded.

Besides being a good thing for Chettie, it was a good thing for Mike, who tends to get a little queasy on rolly-polly ferry rides. He and Chettie spent most of the ride hanging out in the van. I hung out on deck, listened to my ipod and chatted it up with some of our fellow passengers, periodically checking in on my three traveling companions.

We were daunted by the prospect of landing in Guaymas, a fairly large port city at dusk. We knew of a couple of RV parks in San Carlos, north of Guaymas, but knew finding it would be a challenge in the dark. As luck would have it, we had connected with an ex pat on the boat who lived in San Carlos and he offered to lead us there. Not driving at night is one of our cardinal rules but the late ferry start left us no choice. It was a huge relief to have PJ guide us to a place to stay for the night.

You still with me? We’re almost caught up.

We spent the next night in Alamos, another one of those places that deserved much more time. Alamos is in the mountains, not at the ocean, and we loved the setting, the town, the vibe, the plaza and the market. We took some time in the morning before leaving town to shop for provisions at the local market with stalls selling everything from meat to veggies.


We are still hoping to meet up with my brother in Guatemala around Christmas and this is why we are pressing south. We are trying to mix a little exploration in with putting miles under the wheels. Mexico is a BIG country and we’ll have to keep moving in order to make the connection.

Tonight we are in Playa Las Glorias, with a great beach out our slider. It is yet another spot at which one could linger for a week or more. We’ll continue our journey as the calendar says it’s still possible.

For requests of 'more people pictures', I'll leave you with this:

Remembering Mancel

I was in Florida visiting my dad after my mom had passed away. I don’t remember the specifics of the visit: time of year, purpose or length of stay.


Our days were filled with a series of made-up errands like buying a new battery for his watch; stopping by the post office for stamps; perhaps lunch and, of course, a stop at the grocery store. We’d get the few things on the list and then, as we were leaving the store he’d say, ‘We forgot to get bread’ (milk, orange juice, fill-in-the-blank), thus giving us a reason to get out of the house the next day. It was a life and it was interesting to see how he had worked things out after losing his ‘best ole beauty’.


Late in the afternoon, once the errands were complete, I’d go for a run on the beautiful beach near their condo. My mom loved the beach but my father never really cared for it. Buying the place in Florida was strictly him doing what he thought would make her happy. And, indeed it had.

One afternoon as I was about to head out the door he asked in a meek voice, probably fearing rejection, if he could join me. Sure, I shrugged. It hadn’t occurred to me that he might want to come. And we headed out together, me in Lycra and him in a lightweight windbreaker with a couple of cans of beer under his arm.


At the beach I set off, welcoming the chance to process all the emotions that go along with losing a parent and building a new relationship with the remaining one and he settled on to a bench along the beach to watch the waves.

It was a beautiful sunset and there is a certain time of day when I can’t be near the water and not think of my dad that afternoon. He never cared for the beach but we shared a love of the ocean.