Airstreaming Mexico: Running the Border Gauntlet

No Bridge over the River Sonora

We crossed the U.S./Mexico border on Good Friday. It was a cinch, relatively speaking: no rockets, mortars, or gunfire from warring drug cartels.

The only issue that cropped up was a beggar in Agua Prieta intent on terminating, with extreme prejudice, our command of the spare change tin on the dashboard of the van.

"Wrong" side of The Border

Just arriving at this point was quite a process; fixing, packing, and preparation aside. A word of advice: if you plan to go to Mexico in the near future, don’t tell anyone that you’re going to do it. Just make your arrangements secretively, then dash away with nary a word to anyone. Type up your itinerary and contact information before you leave, and mail it to your family and/or friends as you pass the post office on the way to the airport. They deserve to know where and how you are, but by no means do you deserve the deluge of dissension you will receive when you announce that you are venturing South. Those who attempt to talk you out of it, and the others who call you crazy, obviously care deeply about your welfare and want only the best for you. But their best intentions will be a drain on your psyche and a distraction from your proper preparations for the trip.

I’d like to punch Sean Hannity and the other Fear-Machine Mongers in the mouth for their shameful, reckless, and baseless promulgation of the now popular prevailing notions of conditions in Mexico. Do the raw figures of death and despair seem to add up? Sure. Is there a drug war going on here with multiple fronts? Yes. Were there more people killed in Mexico last year than Afghanistan? Definitely. Is it only by the grace of God that my wife and I have made it as far as we have unscathed? Maybe. However, I’m betting that most of the individuals snuffed out by Mexican drug violence put them self in the wrong place, associated with dicey people, or some combination of the two. We’ve seen none of it, and neither have the locals we’ve talked to. But, who knows? Maybe Sean is correct and soon enough he’ll be able to chock us up as another awful statistic. I’m sure we’d be just the type of tragedy that he and the other Nancy Grace types would love to latch onto and profit from.

Green Valley of the Rio Sonora in Banamichi

On a much Cooler note, though, Mexico is AWESOME!! Many aspects of what we’ve seen thus far are what I imagine Colorado used to be, and what I wish it were now. It is a very live and let live culture (or live and let die, depending on your mindset). Children can ride thru town on ATV’s if they want to, the majority of pickup truck occupants ride in the back, dogs are not sequestered to special parks and required to be on leash everywhere else, families are expected to have fowl and other livestock wandering free and crowing at the first sign of daylight, roads are maintained at a bare minimum, beer is cheap and you can drink it walking down the sidewalk, if you like.

Wayward cactus flower

www.laposadadelriosonora.com

This is not to say that laws regarding these things don’t exist. But the enforcement of these laws appear to be based more on negating gross abuse versus maintaining “law and order” at all times, no matter what it costs in personal freedom and dignity. Sure, it’s somewhat arbitrary, but it appears that if you respect others, keep your nose clean, and mind your own business, then you’ll be fine. I’ve noticed a much stronger notion of personal responsibility then I am used to. Mexicans seem to understand and abide by a sort of natural law that we lack in the United States. For instance, if your unleashed dog is smaller than the other unleashed dog, you may want to pick him up and carry him away. A dogfight is just exactly that, and is over when the fight is over… no one is going to litigate about it later. If the “highway” is in too rough of a condition for your Subaru, then you’d better get a real 4WD, because it won’t do any good to write to your congressman or to the anonymous “You Said It” column in the local newspaper (the latter, an inside joke for Western Slopers). Another example: If the town market is out off eggs and the ATM machine is out of money, then you’ll know to plan a little better next time (this just happened to us today).

From what I can tell, in Mexico, the idea that you are entitled to absolutely every conceivable consumable and service does not exist. Here, you take the little that you can get, be grateful, and make the very best of it. Sounds a lot like what both sets of my grandparents have said about living through The Great Depression. So far, I love what I’ve seen in Mexico and cannot wait to explore the culture and the terrain further (after they restock the ATM with cash, of course).

Side-note: The Napoleonic Code of law (guilty until proven innocent) and the ridiculously oppressive firearm statutes are very concerning for this American. I’ve not been here long enough to experience issues with either one, but time will tell if these concerns are valid.

Church of Our Lady Loreto, Banamichi

Here are some practical aspects about traveling to Mexico:

If you’re going to do a driving trip into Mexico, you’ll need just a few basic things. First, purchase Mexican auto insurance in the U.S. before you cross. We bought a 6-month policy (the best value) for 160 dollars. This covers both our Airstream and the van. Once you cross, you’ll need to stop at a Banjercito (ours was right at the border checkpoint). This is a government office where you first get your tourist permit, then your vehicle permit(s). The total red-tape time at the border was 30 minutes. After that you change out some duckets at the bank, or find an ATM to withdraw your pesos. The most thorough reference materials we encountered for these details were by Moon Handbook's Bruce Whipperman and the Rolling Homes Press husband and wife team, Mike and Terri Church.

Mexican highways (different from toll-roads) have rightfully earned their reputations. They are skinny, windy, pockmarked stretches of chip-sealed madness with no shoulders that must be run with outright skill and steely-nerve confidence, especially if you are towing a trailer. You will be passed, and sometimes cut off by everyone with a Mexican license plate, passenger vehicles and truckers alike. On top of that, if you don’t know Spanish, road signs won’t mean too much to you, assuming that they even exist in the first place. Driving these highways is an exercise in and test of your faith, patience, and aptitude. What a rush! You are definitely ready for that Tecate by the end of the day.

The real fun comes on the even skinnier, and even windier, tributary type roads (still officially called highways) where tractor-trailers are not allowed, or just physically cannot negotiate, whichever the case may be. On these, you can breathe a little easier because they are less traveled and you absolutely must decrease speed, or you’ll rattle your vehicle apart. The best part are the river and creek crossings, usually prefaced 300 meters in advance with a Vado Peligroso (Dangerous Dip) road sign. In all instances except one, these dips were built out of concrete and were completely dry or only flowing with a few inches of water. Again, everyone who comes up from behind will pass you; Mexicans on the road are in a big damn hurry, so just get used to it.

It was one of these “highways”, Sonora 089 (or Sonora 118, depending upon whether you were reading the map or the road signs) that led us to our current destination, Banamichi, Sonora. It is a small cattle town roughly 3,000 people strong. It’s Easter weekend here and everyone is celebrating. We’re boon docking in the town plaza/park for 3 or 4 days (again, try to get away with that in the U.S.) soaking up all of the reverie. Easter is a MAJOR holiday and this place is loud with music and people. Everyone is very cordial and graciously help us with our “caveman stage” Spanish. Children fill the park all day and play futbol Americano with my dog. He’s lost all of his street credibility as aggressive or mean by appearance alone in this town. Everyone asks if he bites, but before I can answer the inquiry, he’s stuffing my orange and blue Broncos football into their hands, looking to play fetch.

Ruiz, my German, American, Mexican Shepherd

Life on the road is wonderful and I can feel my body grow stronger and my soul grow quieter with every breath I draw in. Much love to our Friends and Family. You are in our thoughts.

Oh, did you check in here for some Airstream talk? Yeah, I went a little heavy on the social commentary this time, but check out my sister blog:

Turkeydawgtech.blogspot.com