Desperados

There is something to be said for road trips in a strange and foreign place.

A car provides a freedom unparalleled to explore every nook and cranny, to stop and savour the weird roadside snacks that fuel a country and so much better accommodates the complete lack of planning so typical of Vegemite Ambassador journeys. It's not necessary when setting out each day to know where that day will end, only that it hopefully ends on a full stomach and in a bed. If a bed can't be found, it's time to pitch that tent which so annoyingly absorbs half of a backpack for just such occasions.

This chapter, the first detailing an adventure to the Americas, begins in Mexico. A place that evokes thoughts of tacos, moustaches, mariachi bands, relative lawlessness, mucha tequila and big hats.

After having been in Mexico for a month, all of that is pretty much confirmed true.

But here I hope to share a little bit about the realities of a road trip in this Terra Mexicana and the oddities encountered. Perhaps this account of a poorly organised Mexican road trip adds something extra to the images already formed in your mind of this country.

The border crossing from the USA into Mexico very much has the feeling of a one way turnstile at an exit of an army base. The crossing to Mexico is relatively easy and simple, you walk or drive through it, barely having been aware you have just done so. There are no real checks, no nervous border guard encounters and unless you ask around, no apparent pressure to get a visa in your passport. But turning around and trying to go the other way? That's a different story, the Mexico to USA direction is a maze of barbed wire, checkpoints, stern men with big guns and very excitable looking sniffer dogs. I guess it's handy that most Mexicans can opt to use personal tunnels instead that go right under the border to avoid delays and reduce the paperwork for the poor USA immigration office. Apparently it is a very comfortable journey crossing the border via illegal tunnels too, there are even little rail cars with snacks and air conditioning. Those people smugglers care about customer service.

Even having been to some crazy parts of the globe, I am first to admit, there is certainly some weariness when going through the 'easy' direction of such a crossing and a strange sense of doom, as if a car jacking is just par for the course on the other side. But in reality things seemed strangely safe and well, dare I say it, normal in Mexico. It was quiet, people were walking around doing the things that people do. Some of them were eating tacos and they looked like they were enjoying them and having a pleasant day. There was no car jacking. It appeared that Mexico was overall rather nice.

However, upon closer inspection and a month spent here, you begin to realise that actually, it IS nice. It feels safer than the USA, the roads are generally better and an air of courtesy unknown in most parts of the driving world exists here. It is quite common to become locked in a battle of giving way to another car or passers-by on the street. Indicators and hazard lights are used regularly, it is acceptable to use lanes on the other side if the traffic flow is lopsided and Mexico is possibly one of the few remaining countries in the world that has full service fuel stations. Getting out of the car and doing things yourself seems so primitive now and it will be hard to accept again.

Once away from La Frontera (as the border towns are know), you are subjected to grandiose desert views filled with gorgeous cacti. Though as fluffy and cute as those cactus forests look from a distance, up close exploration amongst them is almost impossible without supremely strong hiking boots. The ground itself around the larger cacti is a sea of strange weeds and ground cover that all excel at producing one to three inch long, foot-loving spines. The odd herds of cattle here and there seem to be able to graze on something amongst this spiky mess, either that or they have evolved to digest rocks.

At the end of a day's drive, camping in the desert is a beautiful and eerie reward. You are in desolation, surrounded by a sea of very unfriendly flora, flanked by scorpions under rocks, howled at by coyotes in the evening and circled by vultures in the morning; all keen to exploit any chink in your relaxed demeanor. There is a real sense of peace in this isolation, mixed with the feeling everything here is out to get you. In some ways it is reminiscent of Australia.

As scorched as the Mexican desert appears, it was wet season at the time of visiting and thus when the heavens open up, they do so with impunity. The Universal Studios movie set tour in Hollywood includes a simulation of a flash flood in a typical Mexican desert town and really this should be considered prerequisite driver training for the inevitable deluge one will face when navigating across a country besieged on all sides by hurricanes and tropical storms. Street gutters and storm water drains are absent from many towns and consequently roads become rivers and a rental car an amphibious vehicle through sheer necessity. If you were to wait for the waters to pass you would go nowhere. There really is no option but to take your car through raging torrents of mud and litter and pray you will get across.

It's one of those things you somehow justify doing while travelling that is far more terrifying than you want to admit in hindsight.

Further into Mexico, the desert yields to a vast mountain chain running across central Mexico where snow graces some of the peaks. Here the roads become windier, the travel time estimates wildly inaccurate and the views spectacular. Eventually this mountainous landscape plunges into the thick jungles of the Yucatan where Mexico meets the tropics. The variety in landscapes is immense; Mexico is one of those amazing countries that can offer almost any type of nature experience one could want barring a ski holiday

And don't get me started on the many ridiculously beautiful beaches Mexico has lying around ...

A sad reality of a road trip through Mexico however is a possible encounter with the Mexican police, who are not above extracting bribes from tourist drivers. They have formulated a fantastic strategy to guarantee a steady flow of customers too, speed limits are set so ridiculously low on good roads that there is practically no way to avoid speeding. This then gives the local constabulary the perfect opportunity to pull over anyone and fleece some money out of them. The only real defence is either drive on the back roads (where the speed limit instead becomes a high score) or to not drive a nice car or a 4WD (gringos love their 4WD's). Never-the-less, should you get pulled over the key is to never offer a bribe outright, that's just plain illegal! Instead you can remark that the officer has a really nice pen and offer to buy it from him at a special price to reflect your genuine interest in such a fine writing implement. There is nothing unusual about that, right?

If the police don't selectively enforce speed limits, there are other silent, insidious and more effective enforcers ...

Topes.

Topes are chassis obliterating, unmarked speed bumps strategically placed at the entry and exit of every town on any road. Sometimes a few extra topes are thrown in for good measure in the middle of town and sometimes in the middle of nowhere to keep you truly alert.

Driving on an open road by yourself is equal parts liberating and nerve-wracking as you can no longer rely on cars in front of you showing you where destruction lies in wait. Occasionally there will be a series of increasingly frequent mini topes that build up in frequency to a proper tope, sometimes they lead to nothing or sometimes to an absolutely monstrous super-tope that will grind the underside of your car to hell despite valiant attempts of a diagonal negotiation. Sometimes, a super-tope will live alone, in an absolutely ludicrous position, like on a long stretch of freeway with the only evidence to its existence being a series of tyres screeches and a cloud of vehicle debris nearby. Hitting a super-tope at any significant speed is trip-ending, and the fear of one becomes so great that ANY slightly inconsistent blotch on the road causes you to brake a little in sheer panic. Topephobia is real, very, very real.

Perhaps a little too conveniently, car mechanics and tyre shops are often established near super-topes. Whether the shops are a response to consumer demand or the topes are a Mafia style method of generating business is unclear, as building a tope (along with putting red and blue flashing lights on your shop, using advertising that looks like street signs and painting a stop sign on your building) is completely legal. One young boy was selling fruit beside the road and had made his own mud tope to force traffic to a halt so he could then awkwardly smudge plantains for sale against the window of each car. You never forget building your first speed bump as a child. It's a rite of passage in some parts I think.

Sometimes however a tope is not enough, in the highlands of Chiapas it is not uncommon for the most enterprising fruit sellers to pull a rope across the road, from which hangs sticks, pieces of cloth and other general debris. Car tripwires such as these are often established around blind corners for maximum impact on would be customers. I don't know about you, but nothing convinces me more to buy a product off someone then them setting up a life threatening physical trap to get my attention. After the initial panic from the first few of these traps any semblance of caring is lost and it then becomes a game of chicken between you and the wiley fruit seller - will you stop, or will they lower the rope. Let's find out punk.

In case you weren't sure, Mexico is very much in the midst of a drug war, which is largely why tourism numbers in the country have suffered in the last few years. You'll feel the war's presence first hand on a road trip with the myriad of military checkpoints littered throughout the country. And these checkpoints are ready for anything. It's scarily normal to see sand bagged bunkers brimming with heavy M60 machine guns (capable of destroying most vehicles short of a tank) casually eyeing you off as you pass. Troops would often tap the window of the car, look in at the mess of pillows, food and clothes and then casually offer a "vacaciones?". To which the the only correct response is a "Si" in a slightly diminutive voice. No matter how much you encounter them, each checkpoint is always unnerving.

The only real break in the road trip was a short but stupendous side trip on El Chepe - the Copper Canyon train line. This is undoubtedly one of the most amazing train trips on Earth and when you need four engines to pull eight carriages you know the track is steep. El Chepe, zig-zags up the mountains through tunnels, over massive bridges and several times the track even loops over itself as it ascends into real high sierra country. The Copper Canyon is actually a network of many massive canyons, some being even deeper than the Grand Canyon and the train consequently passes beside sheer drops that simultaneously inspire and momentarily depress as you see the occasional wrecked and irretrievable carriage below from a previous derailed train. It wasn't clear whether the Mexican folk on the train were firing off a few Hail Mary's for those onboard or for those below. Maybe both.

A road trip in Mexico is not for the feint of heart; it's eye opening, reflex sharpening and perhaps not the safest introduction to driving on the other side of the road. But it sure is the best way to see this massive and varied land. In retrospect it shouldn't be done any other way.

But what about the people and the food you say?

That's for next time mis amigos fantasticos ... Hasta luego!