I am a superb plan maker. Give me your parameters and I’ll make you a plan. I am excellent at it. I am so good I can make and remake and later modify that plan. I can figure out alternative plans. And then I can stand on the sidelines and watch them all collapse into a pile of unplannable wreckage and rude words.
The idea had been to stay in Barra de Nexpa for another week and then tootle down to Zihuatanejo three or four hours south and take up residence next Monday in an AirBnb Layne had discovered in the city. Pet friendly, swimming pool, air con, WiFi. $42 a night. Brilliant.
Then we got water bombed, presumably by the entitled young Mexican surfers who gave us such an unpleasant vibe. So I grabbed all plans and tossed them into the river. And just like that we were on the road once again with no internet connection and just Highway 200 to give us an idea where to go. Ohmigod! Plan-free! Help! Barra de Nexpa to Barra de Potosí = 117 miles of topes and just a few profoundly spectacular potholes.
We were left discombobulated by the suddenness of the water bomb attack out of the dark campground we had considered a refuge, and a gloomy mood descended over the crew of GANNET2 as we took to the road. We tried a few side roads to places labeled “playa” but none looked interesting. We found an old dirty white dog snoozing in one parking lot overlooking a beach and I took a bag of prepared dog food we carry for street dogs and dropped it off for the surprised creature who woke up and started eating as though food from nowhere was part of the day’s plan. I saw another dog napping in an intersection in one town, ignored by traffic, an unintentional symbol of the poverty of Michoacán State. The more dogs you see on the streets the poorer the community.
We stuck to the coast wondering what to do with ourselves for the week leading up to the apartment rental. Layne nixed my idea of driving four hours to Uruapan, an inland city, to gain elevation and escape the heat. Too far out of our way was her veto. We stuck as close to the coast as we could and came to Playa Azul ( Blue Beach ) some 12 miles north of the industrial port city of Lazaro Cardenas. We stopped for breakfast at 10am which was odd for us as breakfast is a meal we usually skip. With huge glasses of fresh orange juice we had a robust meal to last the day.
Layne had a big bowl of barbecue beef soup, the worlds weirdest breakfast and it was rich and delicious. I had my usual non fish standby of Mexican beef steak, cubed beef in tomato sauce and we both marveled at the thick home made warm corn tortillas. She won the menu choice but it was a cheerful friendly stop.
Rusty took on his “when in Mexico” act and curled up off the sidewalk after stalking out of the restaurant seeking his own alone time.
The only known camping spot was at a nearby hotel (with swimming pool) but didn’t allow dogs (mascotas). We would have liked to stay in this resort town for Mexicans and in answer to the fearless Layne’s query the restaurant owner said park on the street here, you will disturb (molestar) no one. We had a back up plan. How to spend the day? At the beach of course. We took off down the coast road (Boulevard Costera) Highway 37 toward Lazaro Cardenas.
It was an odd road made of cement in four lanes with a wide median occupied by a tree lined two lane cement bicycle path! Some local dignitary presumably liked cycling and had the influence to get a totally useless bike path built for a dozen miles to nowhere. We found the roadside bakery (above) and bought four large rolls for a buck and got a cinnamon cookie thrown in for free. Mexican hospitality once again.
We drove a few miles down the astonishing highway, smooth yet littered with unmarked purposeless topes (speed bumps), but only found one camp ground that, in a local plan of some nefarious sort, also didn’t allow dogs. Were we supposed to ditch Rusty? We asked workers building an elaborate gatehouse if the beach was accessible and they shook their heads. Eventually by simply taking side roads we found a restaurant with a space for us to park. 200 pesos ($10) and we could crash. The restaurant owner had worked for a couple of years in Minnesota (!) making tortillas (!!) in a factory. Typical of the immigration debates you never hear are the Mexicans who work a few years in the US, a hostile social environment for them, before they go home and use the money to start their own business. His kids, disconcertingly, found us fascinating.
We chatted with Samuel and Homer but we really wanted a day off Mexico. We needed a cultural retreat to reset our inner tourist. We closed up GANNET2, turned in the a/c and fired up a downloaded TV show on our iPad. Periodically we napped and occasionally we ran the engine to keep the batteries charged. Layne made pasta for dinner and we walked the beach after dark to be alone when all activity ceased. We really needed the time to be together and ignore the world.
It was a pretty enough spot but even with a shallow water swim in the estuary we failed to shake off a feeling of despondency. Fortunately we are old enough to remember these feelings from previous trips and we knew the required treatment: time.
We had thought of staying a couple of days, we had time to spare, but the loud competing music from different establishments, the nosy bored kids stuck at home because of their teacher’s illness (they said) and a general feeling of wanting to move to leave our blues behind, meant we changed that plan and decided to leave in the morning.
We said goodbye to the huge surf with one last Rusty walk early in the morning. GANNET2 was loaded and buttoned up and we took to the highway.
We were ready to see what the port city of Lazaro Cardenas in rush hour could throw at us. Our plan? To go shopping and do some chores. Nothing more complicated than that!
