Down to Earth: Two Wheels to Adventure: Viva Mexico!

After some debate, on my part, we finally rolled up to the Mexican border this afternoon. But I’m getting ahead of myself.

Our day started off back in southern Tuscon at the Cat Mountain Lodge. We awoke in our “green-rated” accommodations and meandered across the courtyard to the Coyote Pause Café. Peter ordered Coyote hash and I enjoyed some authentic Huevos Rancheros on homemade fry bread. Our plan was to load up on a big breakfast that would last us until we reached Rocky Point (or Puerto Penasco) in Mexico. We’ve been asking the question, “Have you been to Rocky Point?” to everyone we come across the last couple days, and following up with questions about safety and travel tips. We asked waitresses, fellow tourists, hotel employees, and even the border patrol. Across the board, the most common response we got was that the road to Rocky Point was safe during the day and commonly used by Arizonians to buy fresh seafood and take weekend vacations. With those positive first-hand accounts we agreed to forge ahead into Mexico.

We're in cowboy country.

We traveled about 150 miles before we reached the border and both Peter and I started to feel the wear of those miles. He fashioned a better backrest for me with another bag, but my head and my tail were still a constant source of discomfort. I alternated between trying to raise my butt off the seat and pushing my helmet up just enough to take the pressure off my head. Peter also started to complain about pain in his bottom due to there being less space to change positions on the motorcycle seat. It seems that we were both feeling crowded on the bike, but misery loves company and at least we had that! The only thing that took our minds off of our pain was the striking beauty of the desert landscape. No two saguaro cactus looked alike and all were wildly interesting.

Looks just like a wild west painting.

Finally, we arrived at the border. The U.S. officials asked us a few questions and allowed us to leave our country without even looking at our passports. A few yards down the road the Mexican officials did the same. Then we rolled into Mexico, and what a change it was. It’s hard to describe, so I’ll let photos do most of the work. The landscape didn’t change, but suddenly we were in a 3^rd world country. All the signs were in Spanish (of course) and the faces, buildings, and lives of the people were instantly foreign.

Leaving the U.S. Border stop.

Entering the Mexican Border stop.

Now in Mexico.

Can you imagine a sign like this for Mexicans in America?

We traveled the 60 miles to Puerto Penasco without incident. A checkpoint outside the town with armed military guards inquired about our visit, but let us pass without much ado. We eventually found our hotel, checked in, ate dinner, and retired to the warmish outdoor hot tub for the evening. Tomorrow we shop the Malecon...