Zihuatanejo Syndrome

Many years ago sailing down the coast of Mexico we reached a place where travelers in boats had to make a decision, the choice of destination, between crossing the Pacific, continuing south to the Panama Canal and visiting the Caribbean or even of turning round and returning north. For us, traveling with two dogs there was never any doubt as we could not take Emma and Debs island hopping the Pacific Ocean.  We transited the Panama Canal a few months before the Americans gave up control in 1999. 

But it was in Zihuatanejo, a port and tourist town in Southern Mexico where we learned a traveling lesson. The choice there was to stay or go and the only reason to stay was to sorbs a couple of extra days vacationing with friends who were planning to turn west and make the sail to Australia. We agonized about whether to stay or go. Belize, January 2000: 

We elected to stay worrying all the time about spending too long in one place instead of getting on south. In retrospect we were idiots considering our journey was open ended only limited by our diminishing supply of money, we had no jobs and our home in California was rented and paying for itself so we had no time constraints. 

We learned a great deal about ourselves, our marriage, sailing, traveling by sailboat and time management on that two year journey from San Francisco to Key West and even now we talk about Zihuatanejo Syndrome when we have to decide whether to leave or stay in one spot on a journey. 

So when we arrived back at Swiss Wassi after our seven hour drive to nowhere to get Rusty’s import papers at the border we had to deal once again with Zihuatanejo Syndrome. Layne, the chief communications officer got a WhatsApp message from Florian and Corrine last seen in northern Ecuador with their broken down Volkswagen at Sommerwind Campground. Their Eurovan is fixed after the turbo charger blew  up the engine and they will arrive today.

As eager as we are to get going with all our correct papers to visit this vast fascinating and intimidating country we felt we could not leave. So here we are, still at the beach. We have time and it’s a nice place to be even if we are ready to go.

Eveline and Gert are getting ready to go to Ecuador and we said goodbye to them before we left the first time. We said goodbye to them yesterday again with a lunch at their favorite restaurant in town. Fish in fish sauce: excellent. 

It was a fine lunch full of travelers’ tales at a place known to the German voyagers from when they were here a few months ago before their stored their truck and went home to Hamburg for a few months. 

Luz, who operates  her own business and cooks and has kept it going  for eight years here. She’s building a vegetable garden out back, on the edge of the desert to grow her own vegetables for her kitchen. She has quite the sparkle in her eye as she talks about her business.

Back at Swiss Wassi our neighbors got their expedition truck ready to go, loaded their motorcycle, rotated their tires and ordered a round of the national drink pisco sours for us to share.

They told us inspiring stories of countries they visited including a tour of Iceland, now on our list, and a two day saga of sinking through the salt flats of Bolivia and getting stuck: 

They paid a thousand bucks to some Bolivians who spent a day hauling a ton of salt to pour under their truck after they lifted it using a pile of rail ties to get it out of the hole. That these were the same Bolivians who directed them across the salt was purely coincidence we all agreed. It’s just the romance of overlanding you see.

We will be here a few more days and Monday is Independence Day in Peru so sitting tight might not even be too stupid. Rusty approves. 

Rusty Strikes Again

It is grossly unfair to blame Rusty for Wednesday’s fiasco on the road. He did his usual of being obedient and jumping aboard GANNET2 when asked and sitting perkily upfront as we drove. But for want of a shoe the kingdom was lost as the saying goes. And through no fault of his own Rusty did not have his shoe and our exploration of Peru cane to a grinding halt. 

We had a swim in the Pacific Ocean before breakfast, showered, said our good byes to our fellow travelers at Swiss Wassi and around 10:30 we were on the PanAmerican heading south. Usually we want to be on the road early to arrive at our destination well before dark but Layne had a lunch planned in the tourist town of Máncora, an hour south on Highway One. 

Our bill for a week at the campground including beers and snacks and a swim in the pool one day, amounted to around $163, and in a country with regular gas near $5 a gallon sitting still is a way to save money. We were both ready to move after two weeks of enjoying the ocean. 

An hour south of the campground, along a road with stretches of decent pavement and stretches of potholed hell we came across a checkpoint. It’s just a matter of showing the vehicle permit, if that, and driving on. Not today, Satan. The customs officer asked for vehicle papers and Rusty’s papers which we didn’t have. We were almost to Máncora an hour south of our starting point. 

I took no pictures of the checkpoint but everyone was friendly and polite and luckily we speak Spanish so we had a discussion and I showed him our exit papers from Ecuador for Rusty so he knew we had simply screwed up.  He suggested we carry on and tell the next checkpoint we entered Peru at night when the Agriculture office (SENASA) was closed. 

We pondered our options and decided to drive back three hours to the border. We could have continued but Layne and I are rule followers and we feel more comfortable having our papers in order. Why we didn’t push our way into the Agricultire office at the border and demand his papers I don’t know. Like I say it’s all Rusty’s fault. And travelers who don’t have dogs nod sadly and say: See? Traveling with dogs is a complication. Of course it is, and there are more to come but he’s ours and we couldn’t dump him. And as you may have noticed he brings much joy with him, obviously. 

This below is not the checkpoint, just an abandoned toll booth along the highway: 

It was our fault of course. In classic style we failed to chart our own course and listened to other travelers who said blithely: “In Peru they don’t care about your pet,” but apparently they do. More than any other coubtry we’ve visited. And Rusty is impossible to hide as we drive along his head above the dashboard. 

We could have pressed on and hoped for the best but we’d have been worrying all the way and not having the correct papers leaves you vulnerable to bullying and bribery.

So we did the sensible thing for our peace of mind and drove three hours back to the border which was its own three ringed circus. 

I took no pictures of the border either but we snuck in the back entrance to the complex of buildings and I explained to the security guard we needed to see the agriculture guy. 

We filled out a form and deposited $26 at the bank and we got our crusty papers in thirty minutes with the $80 exit form we got from the vet in Cuenca Ecuador which we should have used when we first arrived. All done. Silly us. 

Then I walked over to customs to explain our situation before we got in line to drive back into Peru again. He was pretty Leary when he realized we entered July 11th and had come back. But I pleaded our case that we never crossed into Ecuador and he spoke to his boss and all was good. Like I said, luckily we do speak Spanish, however mangled.

It was now 4:30 and we had a 90 minute drive back through ghastly Tumbes to the campground.

We stopped to do some quick shopping at the supermarket in Tumbes, our third visit, and pressed on. Layne had sent a WhatsApp to Frank the campground manager and ordered grilled chicken for dinner for us. We were drooping. 

We had stopped for lunch in our way up the coast and for four bucks each we got a bowl of delicious lemon rice soup and then meat with sauce and vegetables that was quite delicious and unlike anything we got in Ecuador or Colombia where vegetables and sauce are quite unknown. 

And thus we drove up and down the coast road getting the job done. Webb Chiles wrote he’d rather be in a storm at sea (Force 12 he said, utterly petrifying for nostalgics) than deal with this stuff and he’s not wrong.  But here we are. 

And back at Swiss Wassi we are; Rusty was squeaking to be let out when he saw where we were. 

No matter how blue we felt it’s a nice place to be. 

Good Bye Swiss Wassi

Wednesday we are leaving the campground and going south. 

A few last pictures as we say goodbye to a most excellent stop. 

Rusty has enjoyed his time here and I know he will miss it until we reach the next stop. 

We are looking forward to seeing more of this country, coastal deserts, mountains and ruins to come. 

This lovely Chilean family went north with a promise to meet us in their home town in the fjords of Chile. We are very much looking forward to that. 

A French couple showed up in a Mercedes Sprinter van with their Starlink dish bolted to the roof which seemed like an innovation. 

We like keeping our dish mobile so we can park in the shade and let Starlink get a clear sky at the same time.

They brought lobster and grilled them for a shared lunch. Nelly and Roger from Brittany:

Sunshine

Layne found a place she wants to try Peru's famed cuisine an hour down the road but they open Wednesday so we are going to suffer a couple more days swimming and beach lounging in the sun.

Martin and Marie from Germany left Monday, their last day they can be in Peru before their papers run out. They bought a Mitsubishi pick up in Chile from some other German travelers and set off to explore the continent. They didn’t get far before the frame on their pickup split in the middle of the street. 

They got a flatbed to a shop and wouldn’t you know it the welder said he had done the same job to the pick up for the previous owners who failed to disclose the problem to Martin and Marie when they bought it. The solution was to fix the pickup and find a used lighter weight folding camper shell to fit their repaired Mitsubishi. They’ve now reached Ecuador with the rig and I love that story because it’s a reminder when your vehicle breaks it’s not just happening to you. Everyone has repairs on the roads in these wild mountains. 

On a less dramatic note they gave us a ton of useful hints about places to see and places to camp down south. One thing we are looking forward to is lots of varied camping opportunities in Chile and Argentina, countries with open spaces and wild camping. For now we have Swiss Wassi to ourselves. 

We had beer and chips to celebrate the disappearance of the Inca god but as sunsets go it could have been better. The beer was okay.