About 10 hours of seat time and do our behinds know it! 1742 miles traveled so far After a night in Cabo, we decided to start our journey North. To be honest, this wasn't our first choice.
Our first choice turned out to be a hugh “event”. While still in La Paz, Peter and I had decided we had seen about enough small and big Mexican towns. Although this entire trip has been fantastic, I think the relentless heat was starting to get to us. After sufficient quantities of alcohol we had decided that 70 degrees sounded pretty “damn” good.
From La Paz, we had a few options. During our sight seeing efforts in town, we did manage to find the ferry terminal. Two different ferry's leave this location. One to Mazatlan and the other to Topolobampo. From Topolobampo, a train is a short distance away that travels through the Copper Canyon to Chihuahua. From there, it is a fairly short distance to El Paso, TX and Las Cruces, NM. (USA!) The train trip is supposed to be spectular and we were told that the train can haul cars, motorhomes and motorcycles! What a sweet way to not have to double back on the same roads we had already traveled.. Additionally, we could be close to the U.S. Border with less cruising time than would otherwise be necessary.
The next morning (Friday), Peter and I set out to make the necessary arrangements. I first get on the phone and manage to make reservations on the ferry for us and our motorcycles. No problem. We had heard that is was necessary to acquire some sort of permit for “touring gringo's” to take motor vehicles to mainland Mexico. According to all of the authorities and people in the know, they didn't know much about it. They did suggest that we check at the ferry terminal and it should be no problem. Sounds good. The lady that I exchanged butchered Spanish to her butchered English with, while making reservations, said that we should be at the ferry terminal at 12:00 for the 2:00 final boarding and 2:30 sailing. No problem.
Peter and I arrive at the ferry terminal at 11:30 just in case there is a line up to get this permit that no one really knows much about. We find the place that sells these and wait for our turn. Up to the window we go. We had previously grabbed our motorcycle registration, proof of Mexican insurance and of course we had our passports. We should be good.
The very pleasant young lady at the window accepts our documents as we “try” to explain why we are here and what we think we need, to accomplish what we have planned. She seems to understand and agree that we do indeed need this permit. After careful and approving examination she asks where are our travel visa's? Que? What visa's, we ask. She explains that they are the visa's that were issued to us when we entered Mexico. We explain to her, that it when we crossed the border in Tijuana, we were lucky enough to receive a “green light” and men with guns told us to move along. Which is what we did. She gives a knowing nod and explains that it doesn't matter, we need the travel visa's.
You know that sinking feeling you sometimes get. It occurs when something doesn't meet expectations that you had high hopes for... Peter and I are far more optimistic than that! We ask how we go about getting the travel visa's. She explains that there is an immigration office, just upstairs from where we are. She is even willing to go up there for us and inquire about us acquiring the necessary visa. We follow her up.
It seems that the immigration official that normally, periodically, staffs this space has left for the day. Heck, why not. It's hot out. It's 12:00 by now. And, his space is only cooled my a small fan. Hardly sufficient for an official of such stature!
Alas, all is not lost. There is an immigration office in La Paz that is always staffed during business hours. It's only 20 minutes away.
Off we dash to solve our visa dilemma. Once we finally find the immigration office and park illegally, Peter dashes in and grabs a number for better service.
Time is ticking away but it could still happen. It's finally our turn. We dash up to the window and explain why we are here. We tell the clerk about the green light and men with guns telling us to move along. She takes our information and starts typing on the computer.
Time is ticking away but it could still happen.
Before way too long, she prints out two forms for each of us. She then proceeds to inform us that there is a fine involved for us not getting the permits in the first place. Troupers that we are, we are determined that what ever it takes. Out come our wallets. “How much?”, we ask. Oh, it's about $126 US, each but we can't pay it here. We have to go to a bank. It doesn't matter which bank, apparently; all of them are equipped to accept our money.
“Where is the nearest bank?”, we ask. “About 4 blocks”, she replies in a non specific manner.
We hop on our bikes and dash off in whatever direction we were already pointed. A few minutes later, we find a bank. We park illegally and dash into the bank.
The place is full of people; waiting. Seemingly, their second home. Above each teller's window is a sign written in a foreign language. Unsure as to how to proceed, we start asking official looking people. We discover that we first need to have a “number”. Ah, there is a bunch of people getting numbers, over there! We find that there are several options for numbers based, seemingly, on what sort of transaction you require. All of those options are written in a foreign language on the dispensing machine.
We each finally manage to get to a teller window and each is willing to accept our money. We are issued receipts for each of the fines on each of the two pieces of paper. These serve as proof that we regret disobeying the armed border guards in Tijuana.
Time is ticking away but it could still happen. It is starting to get uncomfortably close however.
Back to the immigration office! Parked illegally again, we dash inside; paperwork in hand. The place is remarkably empty compared to earlier. New customer service numbers have us at the window in short order. Proudly, we display our completed forms. We are informed that the Federal Computer System, that is required so one additional form can be printed for each of us, showing that we have met the obligations thus far, is down, kaput, not functioning. There is apparently not another way to create this form. No way! Manual methods that probably used to exist are not even an option.
Things aren't looking too bright for our immediate travel plans. It seems that we will have to wait until Monday. They expect the Federal Computer System “should” be fixed by then and people that require Visa's can once again enter and leave Mexico.
Somewhere along the way, we also learned that the train that can supposedly carry all of those vehicles and passengers, only carries passengers, at lease during the off-tourist season.
Oh well, off to Cabo!
Now on our return trip, we will probably burn plenty of miles each day.
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