If you were in Key West right now and could look southwest for 740 miles you would be able to see GANNET2 parked on the beach staring out over the muddy turquoise waters of the Gulf of Mexico. Freedom Shores they call this campground where we pay 300 pesos a night, about $16, for our slice of Mexican paradise. And the laundry belongs to our French neighbors, not us just for the record.
Monday, the national Mexican holiday honoring Benito Juaréz passed us by in a blur of driving as we made our way across countryside that gave me fits of nostalgia for our south Florida home. I kept saying to Layne “this looks like the Everglades” or “we could be around Lake Okeechobee” as we drove along at sea level surrounded by banana palms, sugar cane and the inevitable coconut palms.
We woke up in our truck stop parking lot on Highway 145, the toll road to Villahermosa (“pretty city” a misnomer I think) the capital of Tabasco State.
Layne thought the city might be a good place to stop as we could get a night in a Hilton Hotel for 10,000 points and there is also a Costco in the city, the last one on our drive to South America as we won’t be passing by Merida the southernmost Costco in Mexico. I demurred arguing we’d be in Villahermosa in a couple of hours and Belize customs are said to be quite strict and we will have to start getting used to shopping locally. Mexico in many respects is surprisingly integrated with US commerce.
In the end we circumnavigated Villahermosa pushing south on the toll road - the “cuota” - making miles with our eyes and minds focused on Belize at this stage. Ice cream seller, caught as we drove Highway 180, the coast road to Ciudad Del Carmen:
Yesterday was a cool overcast day with sudden bursts of rain leaving puddles on the ground and moisture in the air like a summer afternoon in Key West. The land is low lying so roads are built up on causeways and on either side we could farm animals grazing in lush wet fields sharing the bounty with snowy egrets, little white spots amid the greenery. I felt oddly at home.
“These people live in a swamp,” Layne said indignantly as we left the Highway and took 180, a toll free road clinging to the edge of the Gulf of Mexico. Water was everywhere after the recent heavy rains. We had left behind the aridity of the Pacific Coast in winter and the cactus country of the Sonoran desert.
As much as I like the tropics, and we are at 18 degrees north here, far below the Tropic of Cancer, southern Mexico is pretty tough economically speaking. Compared to the north these states are less developed, more dusty and shabby and many of the roads seem to have been surfaced with molten lava that has been allowed to cool into any shape it wants. I hope my picture shows the true horror of a road surface squashed into a trench:
I’ve never seen anything like it, long straight ruts created by endless truck tires, summer heat and zero maintenance. We weaved as we progressed.
You can also see heavy traffic on the evening of the last day of the long holiday weekend. Google maps predicted more than an hour to cover 25 miles and that was as slow as we drove most of the afternoon.
The long lines of traffic snaked painfully along but as always most drivers were pretty courteous and patient though we did see some examples of impatient passing and pushing. Road rage and gun waving are not a part of Mexican road culture happily. Even when a truck breaks down and blocks the narrow roadway. We took it in turns to pass patiently.
I am forced to the conclusion that Covid has caused swathes of damage to this coastal tourist economy. Lockdowns, travel bans and so forth have set marginal communities back. Ciudad Del Carmen, a small barrier island city looked the worse for wear.
There was nothing too appealing here for us.
We pressed on finally reaching open water views. The Gulf of Mexico:
Beach getaway:
The bridge to the town town of Isla Aguada (“watery island”) wherein lies Freedom Shores RV park.
And, just like the Florida Keys, the old bridge is a fishing pier and pedestrian walkway - with the occasional moped riding on it to evade traffic backed up at the toll booth on the new bridge!
The three dollar toll caused a bit of a traffic back up, one last one, entering the town and we drove around a little to check the town out and assess our choice of campground. Freedom Shores won out thanks to the easy beach access and smooth waters for swimming in the gulf.
The waterfront, below. There is another smaller campground here but there is no water access for swimming on the Malecon, the waterfront street.
One gets the feeling Isla Aguada has seen better days.
We bought corn tamales from a street vendor touting for business at the toll booth. They weren’t the greatest we’ve had, a little dry and grainy, but they were a side dish for Laynes’s roast chicken bought on the road with Trader Joe’s sriracha barbecue sauce bought in Tucson in January.
A quick dinner after a long day on the road. Incidentally we couldn’t get Starlink to connect here possibly because of the tree cover while Layne thought the cloudy day contributed so we may move around to see if we can find a clear path to the sky in this well shaded spacious tropical campground.
The internet phone signal here is a little weak during the day, with slow connectivity. I’m up in the middle of the night when no one else is online so I got to post this with no difficulty at all. We actually need internet access here to get Rusty’s permit to enter Belize. It’s really idiotic but we have to apply to import him to Belize as though he were a prize heifer or a flock of sheep.
And the Belize Agricultural Health Authority (BAHA) has a form we email to Belmopan, the capital, and which they should return to us within seven days…once they are sure my coddled dog will pose no threat to Belize’s livestock. Once we have the permit we drive to Chetumal, the capital of Quintana Roo state and get a single year rabies shot and a health certificate from a Mexican vet close to the border who knows what to do. One such is listed on the iOverlander app. With those papers and a US$25 fee Rusty gets to enter Belize, a country with its own population of not well looked after dogs. Absurd.
Meanwhile a few shots from the road yesterday. Starting with a typical highway toll booth:
Fried plantain seller at a gas station. They were delicious.
Lots of motorcycle traffic as usual, with any kind of load including a ladder.
I needed to pee (too much tea) so I stopped, put on the idiot lights and no one freaked out when they passed. Easy peasy. Also you don’t get labeled as a sex offender for answering nature’s call roadside. Imagine that.
Not the sunshine skyway bridge in Tampa Bay, but similar.
Christ the King supplier of fuels. Beats me, I just photograph this stuff.
