Dukes of Hazzard (of the sky)

Forty (nautical) miles from Tampico, we heard the air traffic controllers telling the weather to another pilot. He said there were crosswinds at 20 knots. I happen to know, and Ricardo can’t deny because it is stamped on his cockpit control board, that his plane has a maximum allowable landing/taking off crosswind of exactly 20 knots. Gulp. No report of gusting, but I was still uneasy.

So Ricardo announces – presumably to make me feel better, but OMG – that we will LAND ON ONE WHEEL!

WHAT?! Yep, he said we had to land on one wheel (sort of canted sideways, if you will) to deal with the crosswinds. At first I was freaked out, and then I was super excited.

I took great comfort in knowing that Ricardo’s home airport in Houston (Weiser) is a crappy little landing strip with permanent crosswinds. In fact, on our maiden flight together in 2008, we were blown right off of that runway and heading for the trees at 50 knots when the plane lifted off amid his attempt to abort the takeoff. I know he has been taking off and landing this plane in crosswinds at least twice a week for ten years.

I felt safe (enough) and was ready to rumble!!

By the time we got to Tampico, though, the winds had calmed somewhat and changed direction.

We had to land on two wheels, darnit.

quick update to allay any concerns...

We are hanging out in San Cristobal de las Casas for a few days. Got to meet up with some friends (formerly) from Texas who happen to be here. They are driving a VW bus around the world. They've been at it for 10 months now. Go read their amazing blog since we don't have internet at our hotel and I'm trying to divorce myself from the computer anyway. Hasta whenever, amigos!

Nominating Comitán for the loveliest town square in MX

We limped into Comitán de Domínguez last night, after about seven hours of white-knuckling it on rubble-strewn winding mountain roads, facing insane combi-drivers and overloaded, teetering pickups barreling down the pass at death-defying speeds - even when the road was constricted to one lane due to the falling boulders on our side. Ricardo definitely belongs here. He likes to drive at approximately 1.5 times the speed limit - even on the successive curvas peligrosas that singularly defined our route yesterday.

We couldn't believe our luck when the first hotel we arrived at appeared to be the most charming lugarcito ever: lovely courtyard in full bloom, quaint teensy little room (the door doesn't even open all the way because it hits a bed as it swings in) finished out in hard wood planks, a large doll-house-esque window with double doors that swing open onto the courtyard entry, complete with sill for leaning on and chatting with reception across the way.

This idyll quickly descended into the depths of Hell.

It started out innocently enough. Ricardo went into the bathroom to shower, and thus began what can only be described as an epic struggle with the shower door. Listening from my perch at the erstwhile delightful window (its fall from grace soon to be recounted below), I was reduced to howling like a hyena with tears streaming down my face. I could hear him in there cursing and struggling and doing battle for what sounded like at least a half hour. I think the door won.

It was all fun and games until I was the one who wanted to shower, though. Setting aside the shower door drama, I was most stricken by the intense malodorous putrefaction that must certainly reside in the walls of that place. We made a pact to ensure that the bathroom door remains closed at all times.

I was starting to flashback to the Amityville Horror. Anyone remember those creepy windows? And the flies? And when the toilet overflowed with evil black sludge?

The hotelcito's excellent location (right on the town square) soon proved to be a double-edged sword, as well. The square was alive with townsfolk, a marimba group, a band of Catholic fundraisers raffling off a car who had, unfortunately, gotten their hands on a P.A. system, and various other characters.

Most interestingly, the town square appeared to be a sort of rendez-vous point for every Mariachi band in town. At first we thought they were preparing for a competition since there were no fewer than 20 or 30 different mariachi bands meeting up at all spots on the compass around the square. We kept waiting for them to get out their instruments and get to it. We finally asked one what was going on and learned they are waiting to get hired and taken to a party to play. The town square is sort of a 'day labor' pickup spot for mariachis. And when not playing and singing, these guys can raise quite a raucous chatter.

The picturesque chalet window was wholly ineffectual at blocking out the din of the town square. In fact, I would swear that it somehow gathered in all sound waves from all around and masterfully directed them right into our room.

I fell into a fitful sleep - earplugs wedged in as far as they would go.

I was awakened several times in the wee hours by Ricardo's thunderous pleas from his bed, only inches from mine in these close quarters: "SILENCIO! Estamos tratando de dormir!!" These would work briefly to silence the unwitting chatters and passersby.

It was a long night for us in Budget Hotel #4.

But the truth about Comitan, though, is that its town square is the loveliest I've seen in Mexico. The square, surrounded by excellent examples of colonial architecture, is replete with art - the sculpted trees and hedges, flowers, ironwork, sculptures, fountains, musicians, multi-level cobblestone and brickwork terraces. Enchanting. See for yourself:

Lunch on the way to Comitan

By the time we finished our breakfast at Vips (the Mexican Denny's, but healthier and with wi-fi), the skies were overcast and stormy-looking again. Dammit!

We were sick to DEATH of Tapachula and Vips and the No-Tell Motel, which had by this time become a total nightmare of roof leaks and busted hot water pipes. No time to go into the details here, but we were ready to blow that joint for sure.

We had been on our way to Lake Atitlan in Guatemala, where we planned to spend a week at Ricardo's cabin. But poor Guatemala has been devastated by first the multiple eruptions of Pacaya and then the torrential rains, flooding, and deadly mudslides from Tropical Storm Agatha. The entire country has been declared a disaster area and more than 80 have died. Airports and roads and bridges are closed and/or washed away. We are just so thankful that we were delayed in Mexico and weren't already at Atitlan when the storm hit.

We made the decision to head for the mountains in our little rental car. Did I mention it is called "The Attitude?" Yep, made by Dodge - a surefire winner of a car, no doubt. Well, until we get way up in the mountains on a Sunday and all the tire shops are closed, that is. But I'll get to that.

Our intel had the trip from Tapachula to Tuxtla Gutierrez lasting anywhere from 4.5 to 6 hours. hahahahaa! SEVEN hours later, we are only at Comitán de Domínguez, which is a bit more than halfway. To be fair, we did have the above-mentioned and photographically documented mishap with the 'Tude. Further, the havoc wreaked by Tropical Storm Agatha left the winding mountain roads nearly impassable at times with rocks and huge boulders strewn about. Here are some shots from along the way:

As you can see from this shot, we did well to opt out of flying. The cloud cover and the haze / fog was oppressive. Because of the rocks and debris, the road was essentially one-way for kilometers and kilometers. At one point, we had to leave the road entirely to keep going up the pass.

Greeting the day on the beach in Puerto Escondido

We stumbled down to the beach at 6:00 a.m. on the 27th so we could watch the first surfers paddle out and see the sunrise.

We saw these two body surfers arrive on the beach and paddle out into the surf.

We thought they were the first ones, but after the sun turned everything brilliant pink for 30 seconds and then lit the sky with morning light, we saw that the far out waves were well-sprinkled with surfers who had paddled out before 6 a.m. when it was inky black outside!

Shots from our "special" hotel

I forgot to mention the vaulted ceilings and crown moulding, the discrete buzzer for the "service window," the indoor planters, and the amazingly brilliant blue matching toilet and bidet! Here are some shots of the luxury accommodations afforded us by the No-Tell Motel. There's one of Ricardo playing on the Kama Sutra chair and one of our secret service window.

La Crucecita on 5/26

There was a textile factory across from Budget Hotel #3 in La Crucecita, Oaxaca, MX. We snapped these shots on our way out of town headed to Puerto Escondido

Did he say "deadly flooding?" Yikes!!

Weather channel prognostications for where we are...

We are hunkered down in Tapachula in the MOST HILARIOUS hotel EVER.

We moved into this hotel last night on the recommendation of the owner of the little restaurant where we were eating. Because it was pretty late when we were finishing dinner and we expected to get an early start into the mountains, he said we should just stay at the CostAzul hotel.

The thing is - it is one of those El Secreto-type hotels that I mentioned in a previous post. I guess they are very serious about their secret-lover trysts in Tapachula because this hotel rents rooms in TWELVE-HOUR time periods instead of the standard 4 hours.

We had already heard that these hotels were extremely luxurious and very affordable. The restaurant owner told us that we could get a room at the CostAzul for the whole night for just a bit more than we had been paying for our sketchy budget hotels, about which I've reported much here and elsewhere on the blog.

Being the adventurous types that we are, we went over to check it out.

What an amazing and bizarre concept. First, you drive through a wooded area onto the property and stop just inside the gate, where a darkened window is slid open and a faceless shadow yells out a garage number to you. Proceed to the appointed garage and pull in. Electric garage door opener silently slides the polished solid wood door shut. Enter the room from the garage. No one has ever seen you arrive. No one will ever know you were there.

We entered the room from the garage - It's GORGEOUS! Lovely furniture. It's enormous! Five times the size of our last room. Marble bathroom tiles and counters. Flat-panel TV. There's a sort of "service window" in one hidden corner that they can open from the outside and place whatever we order onto the counter in our room without ever seeing us. There's a control panel above the bed that works all the lights, the TV, etc.

Craziness!!

Now for the hilarious ... Jacuzzi in the middle finished out in marble tiles. A hammock that can be strung across the room to the facing wall, where brackets are set. And, get this: a "kama sutra" chair, as I was informed by the attendant with a wicked gleam in her eye ('gleam in the eye' is so hackneyed, but I'm telling you she DID HAVE a gleam - how did she do that?). I left my camera at the hotel, so I'll have to upload photos of the famous "kama sutra" chair tomorrow.

Believe me, we have been cracking up over the various appointments and amenities offered in this "special" hotel, but it is the nicest hotel we've been in since we started this trip.

Now for the not-so-hilarious: we are stuck here in this "special" hotel waiting out Tropical Storm Agatha.

Tropical Storm Agatha or Volcano Pacaya?

We are stuck between the proverbial rock and hard place today. We are in Tapachula, which is inundated with tropical Storm Agatha and Guatemala, which is suffering the effects of a continually erupting volcano Pacaya. We can't fly at all to Guatemala, as the airports are closed. We are considering trying to fly West or North out of this tropical storm.

Never a Dull Moment on Ricky Air

** Becky is instructed NOT to translate this entry to Ricardo’s mother. **

Apparently, no extended vacation on Ricky Air is complete without at least one leg of terror. You may remember that in 2008, our experience was that the Mexican aviation weather authorities were on permanent siesta and left their forecast stuck on “10 miles of visibility” regardless of the actual weather conditions. We had a flashback to that yesterday when we flew from Huatulcos to Tapachula.

Weather forecast: clear skies in Huatulcos; clear skies in Tapachula.

About 1.5 hours into our projected 2.5-hour flight, we started to experience some light sprinkles. These quickly turned to vicious driving rain, reducing our visibility to about ZERO at 2K feet.

A quick check of emergency options on our Aerial GPS (my new best friend, I plan to construct a shrine to it upon my return to Austin) revealed that we had no options. We were far enough from our departure point and close enough to our destination airport, that we had no choice but to continue. There were no airports closer than our destination airport, which was about an hour away.

Also, once having filed a flight plan in Mexico, you are required to stick to it. I know it sounds crazy, but it’s true. An airport Commandante had previously explained to us that if we deviate from our flight plan for whatever reason, we and the aircraft will be impounded for as long as it takes the Mexican authorities to conduct an official investigation into our provenience and purposes for being in Mexico, etc.

Uh, Mexican jail, y’all … for at least 3 days, he said. Better than dying of course, but it was moot because there was no closer airport than the one we’d filed a flight plan for. We couldn’t see any abandoned landing strips or fields because we couldn’t see anything. Moreover, we were not in radio contact with any tower, because we were in the middle of nowhere.

These skies were strictly IFR. By necessity, we went into instruments mode. We descended to 700ft to try to improve our visibility – this gained us one half mile of visibility. I had to resort to the charts to localize any antennae or other ground obstructions we might meet. I’m sure the aerial GPS offers this functionality, but we haven’t learned every feature of the device…

Folks, what followed was a VERY TENSE one hour of flying blind, at a low altitude and relying on instruments and the Aerial GPS to guide us to the airport.

40 miles from the airport the tower picked us up and reported… what? Yes, you guessed it: clear skies and 5 miles of visibility!!!

WTF, MEXICO??

Ricardo executed a super-short final and a lovely, lovely landing in the driving rain. We could finally breathe as we shlepped across the tarmac to the the Commandancia.

The lime trees outside the Commandancia were laden with ripe limes and abuzz with dozens of hummingbirds frolicking in the rain. I wonder if I would have even noticed them if I hadn't recently been feeling so close to my demise...

NB: We’ve been in Tapachula for almost 24 hours now and the rain has not stopped.

One Stomach Virus Away From My Ideal Weight

I learned in Puerto Escondido that the best way to manage my case of Moctezuma’s Revenge was to eschew food altogether. I guess you could say I did a modified Master Cleanse.

I reclined on my chaise longue for two days drinking limonada (sparkling water with lime juice) under a nice umbrella on the beach in front of the big waves speckled with surfers.

Ricardo kept me in stitches with his perpetual mispronunciation of Twiggy's name. He just can't say Twiggy. He kept calling him Twinkie (even to his face) and Quickie (even funnier).

Even being sick in Puerto Escondido is pretty damn awesome.

Surf's not up in Puerto Escondido

We packed up and headed out this morning in our little puddle-jumper car for Puerto Escondido. We'd heard tell of insane waves and wanted to see for ourselves. Ricardo and I know our friends and family fear for our safety in the Koliber, but we were in agreement that the greatest threat to our safety on this trip so far was venturing onto a crowded highway with this sub-car that we'd rented. We rolled with caution.

The road trip was only 1.5 hours and I only cried twice. I am feeling pretty softhearted right about now and I can't bear to see the hungry, emaciated animals that we would occasionally see along our route. Sometimes you feel so powerless to make a difference that you just want to close your eyes to the world. Maybe that's just me -- I don't know.

We checked into Budget Hotel #3. Lucky for me, it doesn't even have a doorknob! I'll leave that one to your imagination. We have the essential: A/C. That's all that matters to me.

By this point in the trip, I am starting to talk like Ricardo. I'm even thinking in his accent. If you know Ricardo, you know how funny this is. My English is degenerating daily, to such a degree that my observable Spanish and English skills are about on par.

In chatting with some folks here, we learned that last week's waves reported by our friends Jason and Angela on their blog were actually quite historic, rising to that level (some 35 feet) only rarely. Bummer to have missed those.

Today's waves were in the 15-ft range - still impressive viewing for a couple of novices like ourselves.

I struck up a couple of conversations on the beach with folks who turned out to be (1) a photographer for Surfer magazine; and (2) Grant "Twiggy" Baker, professional surfer and recent winner of the 2010 Billabong XXL Ride of the Year contest for this sweet ride.

This place is, in fact, pretty busy with taut, tanned surfer boys. They hibernate during the hot midday hours and appear magically, boards in tow, at about 6pm to paddle into the waves that are starting to be whipped up by the afternoon winds off the mountains.

Twiggy let us know he's predicting the best waves of the week in the morning and that all the surfers will be up at 5 and on the beach stretching and getting ready to paddle in by sunrise. Show starts at 6:30. We'll be there. I'll let you know how it goes.

Quick health report: Hot snakes all around last 24 hours. lol - I crack me up (thanks, Andrea). Anyway, I am pleased to report that what started out as a supposed bug bite and then morphed into what I'd feared was a flesh-eating bacteria has now subsided somewhat - leaving all the affected flesh intact, if not substantially different in texture and color for now. I had been on the verge of seeking medical attention.

Puerto Escondido

A day in Huatulcos

Today we almost got herded onto a huge double decker catamaran with a hundred tourists. What a nightmare that would have been! Instead we hired this little boat and tooled around wherever we wanted. We didn't see very many tourists at all, spending most of our time on sleepy little beaches.

We bought clams and some other kind of bi-valve (a type of conch I think - they called them "madreperla") directly from fishermen who opened them for us so we could feast on them. The clams were the most amazing I've ever had.

I was doing great with the gargantuan, substantially chewy unnamed bi-valves (the mother of pearl in their shells was amazing) until I noticed they kept moving when I would season them with lime and chile. No one ever told me we were eating them alive! Did anyone else know this - that when we eat oysters, they are alive? This really freaked me out.

The last straw was the little teensy translucent lobstery-lookin' dude waving his pincers at me from the bottom of a shell, the contents of which (save for this little dude) I'd just emptied into my mouth!

Here are some shots from today.

First Night in Budget Hotel #2

Last night was a nightmare.

Don’t get me wrong – I love our little room in only the way a marginally OCD person can. I love it for its economies of space and order. It is tiny. Just big enough for the 2 fulle beds with a little nightstand in between. At the foot of one bed on the facing wall is a built-in, recessed shelf that serves to just hold both of our packs. Beneath the shelf, there’s a short bar for hanging clothes high enough that they just barely sweep the floor.

The bathroom is a 3x8 feet! I know it’s hard to imagine, but they’ve designed it masterfully. It is simply divided in half by a shower curtain, while the tile floor remains constant throughout.

But why was last night a nightmare, you ask? Our teensy room is equipped with a ceiling fan and a window unit A/C. And we have no fewer than 2 remotes and one wall switch with 10 settings. Unless one studies these options before retiring, they can cause a lot of confusion in a dark room in the middle of the night.

Let me tell you about it.

Throughout the night, Ricardo and I alternately awoke either freezing or sweating and fiddled madly with these various controls attempting to cancel out the work of the other. I once woke up and thought I was on the Koliber – the ceiling fan was running at warp speed like a propeller. I thought we were about to take off. And the A/C was blasting at 19 or 20 degrees. I was so cold and so disoriented that I only made things worse with my efforts at the various buttons and switches and dials I was fumbling with.

I ended up stacking pillows and towels on top of myself for warmth and as I drifted off to sleep, I dreamed I was the Road Runner (meee-meeep!!) and that I set explosives under Ricardo’s bed and blew it up and then sped off down a deserted Mexican plain. The dream was so powerful that I woke myself up laughing at it!!!

Then I was awake and freezing again.

Inglaterra v México

We landed in Aeropuerto Internacional de Bahías de Huatulco just in time to rent a very expensive p.o.s. car, drive the 10 minutes to Crucecita to check into Budget Hotel #2, and hotfoot it to a mariscos restaurant to kick back with some choice seafood and watch England beat Mexico in soccer. We had been cheering for Mexico right alongside all the Mexicans. Sad moment.

We crossed the continent!!!

Here are some shots of our amazing flight today from the Gulf to the Pacific Coast. We cruised at 6500ft. We were above the clouds all the way to the Coast. I've managed to upload them in inverse order (oops). The first shots are of today's destination: bahías de huatulco

Ricardo takes a walk on the beach in Coatzacoalcos

The freaks come out at night in Coatzacoalcos!

We were so disappointed that we had to stay the night near Minatitlan. It was a 20-minute cab ride to the nearest coastal town of Coatzacoalcos , a city dominated by the petrochemical industry. As we neared town, the outskirts at least seemed to be dominated by a large mall, Home Depot, McDonald's and other typical big-town crap we had no desire to see.

On the way into town I saw some great hotels that I was thinking we should stop and perhaps stay at. They were along the highway on the outskirts of town - not centrally located at all. But, we were just going to stay the night and leave very early, so I saw no need to get any further into town. They were like walled fortresses with a big in-ward facing courtyard, looked very nice, and appeared to have garages for each room. The first one we passed looked lovely. I was going to suggest we stop, but then I saw the second one. It was called EL SECRETO. It's logo was a large pair of lipsticked lips saying Shhhhhh. Then I understood the garages. It all became clear. hahaha! The cab driver confirmed my suspicions. He also let us know that they are the nicest hotels in town - big screen TVs, hot tubs in each room, etc. He said they rent by every 4 hours.

We went on to the central area of town and picked a modest little hotel by the seawall. The town was absolutely dead. No one around. Boring. Nondescript. We wandered down the way to have some dinner and fell upon the most amazing seafood resto where we feasted on shrimp empanadas, caldo de mariscos (an amazing cioppino) with the freshest seafood EVER, whole pampano, and a vuelve a la vida that unfortunately needed a bit of coaxing to be all it could be.

Then we retired to our hotel room for some relaxation. But we wouldn't be kept down by this moribund place - Ricardo opted for a walk along the beach and I jumped into some running clothes and set off along the sea wall for a nice twilight jog.

All of a sudden ... things started to look alive. People were arriving on foot, by bicycle, in little cars with thumping sound systems. They were parking all along the sea wall to open their trunks and blast their music. They were strolling hand in hand and pushing babies in carts. Venders were starting to appear pushing their little carts laden with aguas, elotes, raspas, and etc. As I advanced along the seawall, the crowds grew. Arriving at the point where the pier juts out into the sea, I saw there was a HUGE ORCHESTRA filling the air for miles around with salsas and rhumbas. Everyone was dancing! There were lovers everywhere - young and old. It was a party that had sprung up from the quiet dust when I wasn't looking! And just as quickly, when the clock struck 8, the last dance was danced and the crowds disappeared.

But the party didn't end there. Then the "crazy buses" started appearing along the sea wall. They were double decker open top buses blaring techno music and bearing dancing fools from who-knows-where to who-knows-where. I did notice one club was advertising a DISCOSNACK PARTY! WTH? Anyone remember those? Wow...

Did I mention it was a Sunday night? They do it up right in good old Coatzacoalcos.

Misty Mountain Hop

When we got to the Veracruz airport to file our flight plan, we got good news and bad news. The military zones we wanted to fly through were “deactivated” – meaning we were clear to cross those areas. Great.

But the bad news was that the airport where we wanted to land on the Pacific coast is apparently a military airport. The next closest airport would add another one and a half hours to our route from Minatitlan. I was not looking forward to a 4-hour leg from Minatitlan to the coast after having flown 2 hours from Veracruz to Minatitlan.

We set out to Minatitlan from Veracruz before noon and flew along the gorgeous coast. It would have been nice if the coast had been clear. But no, we were in the soup again. The weather forecast had been “clear, 10 miles of visibility.” Mmmmkay right.

In fact, we had about 3-5 miles of visibility. Considering that we fly at 135 mph, no es bueno. We had some serious banking turns a time or two to avoid birds. The tower at Minatitlan reported 10 miles of visibility. Wrong again. We only saw the runway when we were about 5 miles out (practically on top of it). Exciting stuff – looking for the runway and not finding it until you are on top of it.

We had planned to just stop here for fuel and then head to the coast. But, in talking with the officials at the airport, we learned that the “haze” is in fact smoke from burning fields that rural farmers are preparing to plant. The route we want to take (south over the isthmus, along the river that cuts through the canyon where the two Sierras meet) is the perfect place for the smoke to accumulate in the afternoons when the temperature has risen & the winds from the North and the winds from the South meet in the middle of the canyon between the Gulf and the Pacific.

Result: turbulence, standing haze and smoke, headwinds of 40 knots.

Alrighty then. We are stuck here.

At least for tonight because apparently the wind is calm in the mornings before 10am when the temperatures are lower. So we will try to leave in the morning.

For now, we are off to find a nice vuelve a la vida in Coatzacoalcos, the next town over that sits directly on the Gulf.

Headed South

We are gonna load up the Koliber today and fly southeast to Minatitlan, then south across the Isthmus of Tehuantepec to get the the Pacific Coast. This route avoids the 13ft and 14ft mountains all around this area. Whew!

Good Morning, Veracruz!

This is the view from our hotel room

Shots from Veracruz

A day in Veracruz

Yesterday we checked into a much-needed lovely hotel in Veracruz right on the water. Time to relax and stop worrying about the flying conditions for a while.

Today started out with a most excellent 4 or 5 mile jog along the seawall. While on my jog, I encountered the police surrounding an apparently abandoned large SUV with Coahuila license plates. But I wasn't worried. Our taxi driver had explained that this area is tranquilo owing to the fact that it is entirely controlled by the Zetas. The funny thing about that is that he was actually saying that the political party PRI is in control (and therefore by proxy, the Zetas). What a relief to know that our personal security is ensured by Mexico's most dangerous drug cartel (through their puppet governmental representatives)!

We spent the day wandering around the lovely Veracruz, oldest city established by the Spaniards in Mexico. The cool thing about Veracruz is that it is a tourist destination, but only for Mexicans. Not many gringos around these parts. It's one of Mexico's largest shipping ports (second only to Tampico now, I think). But the boardwalk that runs from near the shipyard out to the lighthouse is actually a pleasant area.

We saw the amazing fort San Juan de Ulúa, dating to 1565. There's a large Naval Museum of interest. I thought I was walking into it - all laughing and smiling, but I had in fact wandered into the funeraria naval. Oh shit. We took that as a sign that we should just avoid all museums. We succeeded swimmingly in that effort.

We enjoyed some live marimba. Some excellent well-roasted coffee. A lot of local folks doing what local folks do. Some mediocre ceviche. The seafood mercado. And a LOT of walking and looking and soaking it all in. The flip-flop tan is well underway.

I loved all of the beautiful old tile work all over town - on the sidewalks, the buildings, the cathedral dome, everywhere. Unfortunately, our camera batteries were dead within two blocks of the hotel as we set out this morning. I'll post the one or two tile photos in the next post. For the most part, the few pictures we shot before we lost power were unimpressive, except for the hilarious shot I've posted here of me and a large sculpture by the shipyard.

Control Freak!

Now, about the flying. Ricardo is SUCH a good sport. He lets me fly most of the time. This is for one simple and ridiculous reason that makes no sense whatsoever: I am more comfortable when I fly the plane.

How funny is that? He is a pilot of 11 years, with over a 1,000 hours logged. And, yet, I feel so much more at ease when I am flying the plane.

In my defense, I just want to point out that the plane is very sensitive and unless ruled with an iron fist, it just jumps and flits about and tips and tilts and whatnot. That stuff drives me crazy with apprehension. Ricardo is not bothered by it in the least. So he's over there "driving" with his knees while he fiddles with his iPod, pokes around on the GPS, sight sees, whatever. And I'm over on my side in close contact with God.

So, if I ask, he lets me "drive." So lucky. He's trying to encourage me to make some "dramatic maneuvers" to become comfortable. Hahahaha! No way! He tells the story of landing this plane with no engine. The story of practicing coming out of the death spiral in pilot training. The story of mountain training - with dramatic turns and etc. I don't want any part of all that...

I just like to keep her steady as she goes.

Fun with dinner in Veracruz

Well, actually, when our dinner arrived I was somewhat mortified about being served an entire snapper (not only because it was enormous, but also because I don't like to eat anything that still wears its face when I eat it). Thank God his head was entirely covered with the delicious sauce a la Veracruzano. I was determined to avoid staring him in the eye. But then the inevitable happened, he peeked at me through the tomatoes and olives. It went down hill from there... I do feel bad about having made a mockery of his last dignified public appearance - and for having ensured that he met with a most ignominious end.

I think Ricardo and I were asked to leave shortly after these sporting shots were taken.

Postscript: I paid for this bad behavior last night when I was haunted by dreams of huge fish being served all around me as I sat at my table in a restaurant. A very cute dolphin grinned at me from a large platter on the next table and waggled his long nose in my direction. It was terrifying and heartbreaking.

windy landing in hazy Veracruz

The haze never cleared. Aviation forecast was 5 miles of visibility and MVFR. We weighed the aviation forecast against staying another night in the stinky Budget Hotel #1 in a town where some Zetas were apparently gunned down not far from our hotel the day before. Of course the Zetas did not figure into Ricardo’s calculation, but I silently inserted them on the “leaving” side of the scale when we were making a decision.

We departed for Veracruz.

Although we had low visibility and had to maintain a cruising altitude of, ahem, 1500 ft to avoid the haze and clouds, it was much better than the last time we flew into Veracruz. That time, in 2008, it was twilight and the airport seemed to have shut down for the day. They cleared us for landing, but we couldn’t find the airport. The air traffic controller responded to that with, “Oh, uh, I will go turn on the lights for you.” Wow… So, comparatively, this was cake.

As Ricardo says, "If ju don't hurt the plane, an ju don't hurt youself, then eet ees a good landing."

Purple haze all in my brain

So we are hanging around Budget Hotel #1 hoping the haze will lift. The Gulf of Mexico from Tampico around to Minatitlan is pretty hazy with pollution. When we did this trip in 2008, I remember that we had very low visibility from Tampico to Minatitlan. It was nerve-wracking.

I'd previously said that our next ultimate- intermediate destination was San Cristobal de las Casas, where we'd hoped to spend a few days. In light of the weather, we have now actually suspended that plan in favor of no plan at all.

We have some vague ideas, but no real expectations. We hope the haze will abate enough that we can advance as far as Veracruz. I just want to get out of Coahuila! In Veracruz, we will check the weather again to see whether we can continue on to at least Minatitlan.

The long-term (haha - long term for us means one week or so) problem is that there are storms forecast for all over Southern Mexico starting in a couple of days. We can't fly in storms. Hell, we can't even fly in nice fluffy clouds.

All of our planned intermediate-ultimate destinations were on the Pacific coast, which means we have to cross mountain ranges to get there. See all those big scary mountain ranges on this map? We need crystal clear weather to cross mountains safely in the trusty Koliber. If the clouds are low, we just can't cross the mountains. I'll do the math for you:

(Mountains + Clouds) * VFR = nightmare (or crash)

BUT - there are no mountains between the Gulf of Mexico and the Caribbean. We are thinking that we may just be stuck going to the darned old Caribbean if the storms in Southern Mexico prevent us from getting to the Pacific coast.

Yes, that's right. We may just have to beat a path to Belize. Oh darn!