Airstreaming Mexico:
Bringing the Heat.
Agua Caliente and Chiltepin

Sonoran Chiltepin Berries

Interesting fact: Mexican’s make the best Mexican food. Seems like it shouldn’t even warrant mentioning, but it was a poignant realization that I made while snarfing down my third or fourth free meal.

Indeed, we have had at least one Large free and home cooked meal offered to us daily. It’s useless to politely decline an invitation. “No, gracias” will not be accepted for an answer. They want to share and generally fall all over themselves being great hosts. It’s silly to decline anyway, why miss out on such deliciousness?

Yesterday, I had the best fried chicken of my life, and the day before was carne asada, also probably the best. Most all of it is fresh and whole in nature, although I’ve got my doubts about how “organic” their foodstuffs are. It doesn’t matter, though….not to me anyway. They grill onions and green chilies right from the farm and specially seasoned fresh beef straight from the carniceria. Back home I’ve always just driven right by the carnicerias on my way to Safeway to buy beef. This behavior will likely change when we return to The States.

Sonoran’s are very proud of a local product: Salsa de Chiltepin. Best I can reckon from a couple of different Spanglish translations is that it’s main ingredient is from a tree specific to Sonora and it produces little red balls of fire after the rainy summer season. They are harvested in the Fall and soon transformed into Liquid Fire in a Bottle. At least that’s what it is for me. I declined my first few invitations to partake, but as mentioned before, it is useless to resist: you’ll eventually be broken down by peer pressure. Salsa de Chiltepin tastes absolutely incredible, but I only have an instant to enjoy it before I’m breathing out napalm like a dragon. Granted, I’m a true Gringo and have never been able to take The Heat, so you seasoned fire eaters will probably not be affected. For me, though, it’s as hot as I want to get. I now know what the expression, “it burns twice” means.

Gato on the hot springs aquaduct at Agua Caliente


Presently (04/15/09), we’re boon docking at Agua Caliente, 30 minutes west of the small town of Aconchi, itself only 40 minutes south of our last campsite in Banamichi (I’m sure you’re referencing your map right now). Point is, we haven’t made it very far. My wife and I have an overpowering affinity for hot springs, and of course could not resist a “quick dip”, which has turned into several days now. This public park is simple and beautiful in a cruddy, built years ago and never remodeled…just patched up, sort of Mexican way. It kind of reminds me of some unspecific old attraction on the U.S. Route 66, once proud, novel, and new, but is now starting to fade and crumble a bit. Several sets of turquoise painted stone and concrete pools gravity fed from the source thru a system of miniature aqueducts are available in two locations over roughly 40 acres of river bottom.

The source is hot enough to cook with and it is not unusual to see some potatoes cooking or eggs hard-boiling where the spring surfaces. There is no source of cold water here to tame the heat, so the hot water spills thru a vapor cave down a “Mayan Temple Cooling Tower” as my wife calls it, into the first tub. This is the ”hot tub” and the water cools steadily as it travels thru the system. The last pool is the “cool” tub. Bathrooms, bathhouses, and camping/RV spaces are also plentiful, although primitive and way out of level. We have been the only consistent campers here, so we generally have the park to ourselves at night. It’s been a new moon and the stars are most brilliant from our royal pool perch above the “Mayan cooling tower”.

Cooling Tower at Agua Caliente

It’s Spring Break and the kids are out of school and most parents have time off to tend to them. As such, this normally quiet and scarcely occupied park is quite busy and loud. Thanks to this holiday season, we’ve had complimentary Mariachi music every night while in Mexico, whether we wanted it or not. So far, the Mayan Princess and I have been able to identify two different types of Mariachi: one acoustic, mellow and slow (very nice actually) and the other electronic, fast, and booming (quite assaulting to the senses). It’s not a problem, though. We came here to experience Mexico, and that’s part of it.

One of the few gripes I have though is the trash. I can’t understand why such an old, and most definitely proud, culture absolutely refuses to pack out what they pack in. The shear volume of discarded disposable table service and other human detritus is staggering. It seems calculated and deliberate. We spent 15 minutes cleaning up this campsite (before we even set up camp) just to get it to an acceptable standard for ourselves. Best I can guess is that someone else is supposed to clean up after them. Interestingly, both places we have camped (public parks) thus far have had dedicated grounds-keeping staff that attend to them everyday, even weekends. They spend the bulk of their time picking up trash. It’s conceivable that on a busy week like Semana Santa (the Easter Holy Week) and accompanying Spring Break, they just can’t keep up with the volume of people and what we’re seeing is atypical. There are abundant trash barrels, but only the people paid to pick up trash use them. Maybe the citizens are consciously providing job security for the caretakers by leaving a mess. That would be consistent with what we’ve seen…………. Other than that, it’s beyond me.

Camping spot, at the Hot Springs

Regardless of the mess, the people are beautiful and generous. Yesterday, we met the Garcia’s, a local family from Aconchi, who had come to visit the hot springs for the day. I was in the hammock reading when the old man, Carlos Sr. pulled up with his wife “Nana” in the river bed next to our campsite driving his two-tone-brown, late nineties Chevy step-side pickup. Clad in a faded blue western shirt (pearl snaps, thank you) and a pristine white straw hat, wiry and toned from a lifetime on the ranch, he got out of the truck, surveyed the scene a bit, and then hiked up the riverbed to see what else the place had to offer. Right behind him came the rest of his family in a small blue Datsun pickup. Five of them jumped out and started milling about the park. I went back to reading. Next I saw of Carlos Sr., he had started unloading a pile of food out of the back of his truck and was walking over to help himself to my grill in my campsite. I honestly felt an awful, selfish twinge of, “what the hell kind of audacious……….” But, I stopped myself right there. Ashamed, I offered up a very sincere, “Buenas dias, Senor” instead.

After several rounds of niceties (he offered me a beer, I lent them some ketchup, he offered me another beer) we began to warm up to each other and have a good time. His youngest daughter, Ana, a recent graduate of the University in Hermosillo, knows some English and served as a translator for us. She was also very gracious in helping us practice our Spanish. There’s not too much that you can say to each other with limited language in common, but smiles and laughs go a long way as you find out as much about each other as you can. Carlos Jr. fried up the lunch: fries, chicken (Nana’s family recipe) and tortillas with salsa and Chiltepin, while Carlos III, “Carlito” (genealogy must be a real chore for Mexicans) played football with my dog. After feeding us and B.S.ing a bit, they packed up and headed out, only after inviting us over for coffee the next morning. We accepted that invitation and they welcomed us into their home like family. The cowboys of this area are very proud and conduct themselves most nobly. They shave daily, tuck their shirts in at all times, mind the young ones, and sit very straight in the saddle. They remind me a lot of my ranching kin in The States.

Cattle country here on the frontier of Northern Sonora is incredible…. wild and free. The terrain is inexplicable and the people absolutely fantastic. I am so glad we decided to come this less developed and traveled way. For those of you who still have doubts about leaving the major highways, or just plainly have doubts about leaving the U.S., I would recommend this: La Posada del Rio Sonora in Banamichi, Sonora. It is a completely modern and updated walled compound of a hotel whose Manager is from Arizona and speaks perfect English and Spanish. Also, it’s only a 3-hour drive south of the U.S. It’s a good way to start a relationship with Mexico, the real Old Mexico, without stretching the limits of your comfort zone. Check them out at www.MexicoEcoResort.com

Victor and Melissa at La Posada del Rio Sonora

The success of a trip such as ours is dependent on a lot of different types of help from a lot of different people, some of which I’d like to list here to demonstrate how grateful we are to everyone. The following folks are in the Honor Roll of our hearts:

17th Street!!!!! Who could ask for a better place in time?

Shawn C. for not sucking too bad. Why don’t you just go on your break?

Mark Miller for his insurance policy and storage unit. Holy smokes, was that helpful. (Oh yeah, and sorry for the Hannity comments, Mark. Hope you’re not still cursing my name. It had to be done).

Eli for his patience, shop, welder, and tools.

Sandy for the P.O.A. services and the unwanted Spanish Lessons ☺

Celena and Travis for fattening us up for this trip (I’ve got your 50 bucks Travis, come and get it!

Mom and Dad Clark for absolutely everything!!!

Mom and Dad Lind for handling our business, your love, and support.

Marcus and Kenny for helping deliver us to this opportunity.

Angel Garcia and his beautiful family for their West Texas generosity and hospitality.

Ken at The Shady Dell, Bisbee AZ

Victor Acedo for taking care of us in Banamichi. I checked the receipt, and I think you only charged us a penny and a half per beer. We’ll settle up when we come back thru…..Oh yeah, and I won’t tell, Bill.

Bill and Irma for the grub, generosity, information, and big ideas.

Carlos Garcia Family of Aconchi, Sonora

Elisa Turover for her “inside intel”.

There’s more to list but my battery is beeping at me (life boondocking, you know). If I missed you, well you can just kick my ass next time you see me.

Next installment will be from the beach!!!!!!

Much Love, J.C. and M.L.