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Published: February 8th 2018
Cabo San Lucas is a cheap, short-haul option for American tourists in a similar vein to how Majorca is for the English or Bali for the Aussies. Located at the Southern tip of the Baja peninsula, the Cabo corridor of San Lucas and San Jose is one of Mexico’s top five most popular destinations due to its whale watching attractions, surfing, scuba diving but mostly its wild nightlife. Three cruise ships a day were arriving in the harbour in the run-up to New Year and the hordes of passengers that disembarked helped to swell the number of tourists already in town. Although the place was swarming with visitors, there were no backpackers to be seen anywhere, and the crowds seemed to be made up exclusively of resort type tourists. These factors combined to a create a party atmosphere in a town synonymous with its fiesta lifestyle. Liquid breakfasts seemed to be the accepted practice, although an ongoing diet of Tacos and Corona at 10 am cannot be healthy.
New Year’s Eve was spent on the beach watching a firework display for the second year running; all information regarding local events is covered in the bi-weekly ‘Gringo Gazette’ publication which is
freely available around town. Although we weren’t particularly impressed with Cabo, the attraction of the price of a beer cannot be underestimated - 10 beers for $8. That’s about 390 to go before parity is restored.
Our second stopping off point in Baja was a small village named Todos Santos, a settlement evidently heavily influenced by the Eagles, as demonstrated by the crowds of tourists around the Hotel California and Tequila Sunrise restaurant. However, last year the band filed a lawsuit against the hotel owners for using the name without permission.
We hadn’t had many nights out since the Los Angeles debacle, but we did venture into a couple of bars in La Paz one night; one establishment had come up with the innovative idea of installing a tuck shop in the men’s toilets, located adjacent to the urinals. It was handy if you were struck by the sudden craving for a Halls Eucalyptus or Snickers bar though it’d take a brave man to try the pick-n-mix. Putting aside the obvious hygiene concerns, it’s a novel approach to increasing revenue streams.
As we are potentially travelling around Central America for a while, we thought it would be
prudent to develop some basic Spanish skills. As a result, we enrolled at El Nopal Language School in La Paz. Our daily routine consisted of being woken at sunrise due to a curtain that had the shielding properties of tracing paper and a neighbourhood rooster that was relentless in its crowing from 5 am onwards. I wasn’t buying into the literal translation of La Paz: meaning ‘the peace’. The route to school involved running the gauntlet of the crazed neighbourhood dogs, who seemed to be at their most active and vicious first thing in the morning before the heat of the day sapped their energy.
The Spanish lessons were quite intensive; I noticed Melissa copying my answers on the first day and decided to nip that one in the bud - she’s only cheating herself. She then turned her attention to the unfortunate Jurgen, our Canadian classmate, who she grassed up for the crime of failing to complete his homework. After establishing herself as the school snitch, I was tempted to suggest to the tutor that a detention was probably in order but decided that one informant in the class was more than enough. Although we learned a lot
during the week, we still need to work on our pronunciation; the closest Starbucks’ staff have got to understanding our names so far has been Val, Mal, Jackson and Jeyci.
On the outskirts of La Paz were Balandra and Tecolote beaches and we used to take the local bus through the desert to visit them after school had finished for the day. Balandra is an enclosed cove with seven beaches hidden within, and we hiked to the summit of a nearby cliff to enjoy a stunning birds-eye view of the twin beaches.
About an hour’s boat ride off the coast from La Paz is the UNESCO protected island of Isla Spiritu Santos, an area that comprises of 244 Sea of Cortez Islands and coastal regions. It was quite a cold day when we booked our tour, and the snorkelling was restricted to just one session as the tour company had neglected to bring any wetsuits along. It took an age to warm up after being in the water, and as the strong wind was making conditions difficult for our captain, our boat wasn’t able to reach the second reef in the northern part of the island.
We
spent the best part of 24 hours on the water, as later that night we caught the ferry across the Gulf of California (Sea of Cortez) from Baja California to mainland Mexico and the port town of Topolobampo. Reserving a cabin was possibly our best-ever travelling decision, and we enjoyed a full night’s sleep and arrived ready to continue straight on to El Fuerte.
Our first destination was Los Mochis in the state of Sinaloa, home of the Sinaloa Cartel headed by El Chapo. We arrived in the bleak little town on Sunday morning, and the first person we encountered was a taxi driver who had the appearance of a cartel hitman, with slicked-back hair and a voice that barely grew above a menacing whisper. We made the mistake of failing to agree on a fare before we started out and his demeanour implied that we wouldn't be taking part in any of negotiation about it upon arrival.
The principal reason that our journey was taking us across to the Northwest corner of the country was to ride the Ferrocarril Chihuahua Pacifico, or ‘El Chepe’ train as it’s more commonly known. The train covers 400 miles, navigating 37
bridges and 87 tunnels between Los Mochis and Chihuahua. The topography of the land changes drastically from sea level at Los Mochis to high desert plains via alpine forests, sub-tropical valleys and some of the world’s deepest canyons. There are seven main gorges that make up the region which covers an area four times larger than the Grand Canyon.
There were many options to travel through the canyon, and we chose to spend two nights in the picturesque town of Creel. Nestled in the mountains of the Sierra Tarahumara, temperatures plummeted once the sun went down and we noticed a stream that had iced over - the first time we've seen that in five years. Creel was the epicentre of tours and excursions in the district, and we managed to arrange a trek into the valley to visit waterfalls, churches, caves and lakes during our time there. At an altitude of 2330 metres, I started to feel the effects of altitude sickness though, and a 12-hour blackout in town didn’t help matters. Without street lighting or running water, restaurants were continuing to operate by candlelight.
We met a Dutch photographer in town who was looking for a couple
of people to share the six-hour ride up to Chihuahua, and as luck would have it, we needed to leave the same day. She had arranged transport with the owner of her guest house, and the following day we joined her on a road trip through the desert and mountains of Mexico's largest state with our driver Arturo, who couldn't have crammed more clutter into his car if he tried. And he did try. Although he was only spending a couple of days in Chihuahua visiting relatives, he decided to bring everything he owned with him. So in addition to our backpacks, we now had all of Arturo’s worldly belongings crammed into the back seat of his Volkswagen Polo with us - the idea of leg-room was non-existent.
On the way, we visited a Mennonite community where we stopped off for a pizza at one of the diversified businesses the religious sect owns; an example of how the modern-day religion has evolved and now integrates more with the wider Mexican society.
When he wasn't busy eating burritos, Arturo pointed out a member of the local drug cartel who was dressed as a policeman, with the biggest gun I’ve
ever seen strapped to his back, helping children cross the road. The world’s most dangerous lollypop man. We passed through numerous townships on our way through the Sierra Madre Occidental, many of which possessed the three requisites for any village: a church, a bus-stop and a football pitch.
The City of Chihuahua was a night stop off before our flight down to Mexico City. We stayed in a ramshackle boarding house without heating or hot water in La Decima which served as a reminder that it is always worth spending extra on accommodation. It’s possible to tolerate any standard of lodging for one night though, and the following morning we readied ourselves for the madness of Mexico City…
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Jen Parker
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Lovin your work!
Reading this sooooooo makes me want to travel! Love the writing style Jay, keep em coming Mr! Fantastico chico x