02 06 07 1273 W, 2 I - + 13 - 10 1/23/2007 -- Baja Ferry
At the suggestion of the security guard at the tightly sealed Baja Ferry dock, I returned promptly at 8am to purchase a ticket. I was only beat out of first in line by 50 or so very eager Mexicans. After the usual confusion with which line to get into (Mexicans are almost notorious in their aversion to lines, they prefer instead to group en masse around any point of sale), I soon had my ticket and a few hours to enjoy Mazatlàn.
I scooted back into old Mazatlàn and found a quaint cafe right near the beach for some breakfast and coffee. Behind me, I noted that there were two obvious Americans that had been ahead of me in the ferry line. My standard operating procedure is to pay other traveller's no mind until I have to.
What is it about first impressions that makes them consistently wrong? I suppose it stems from the fact that you're essentially trying to cram everything about a person's being into one local and brief experience. Anyway, my aversion to these two Americans in particular was caused by my observations of them in the ferry booth. Doe eyed and a little lost, they loudly barked questions in English to each other as they stumbled around the hectic ferry booth until they finally figured out who to talk to for a ticket. Ironically, I suppose I must have looked the same way, minus the barking bit. In fact, while running back out to get my license plate number I accidentally bumped into a younger Mexican that appeared at first glance to be a hood. Shaved head, droopy pants, tattoos, etc. I briefly apologized but he seemed not to take note.
Back at breakfast, I could easily overhear these Americans' conversation some 10 feet away. Why do American tourists have to stand out so blatantly? (I really wonder what I must look like at times...) I quickly and quietly ate my delicious huevos motulenos and was one my way to explore deeper into old Mazatlàn.
When it was time to start loading on the ferry I returned, once again, to the ferry dock and wheeled the XR around to the back to await directions. I parked right next to the Mexican hoodlum´s car. I busied myself with getting everything I needed for the 19 hour ferry ride while the guy next to me got out of his car and sauntered over.
Turns out, he was the nicest guy in the world. Antonio lives in Pennsylvania (yes, he's legal before you start thinking otherwise) and works for a landscape company that plants multi-thousand dollar trees for the wealthy. He has family in central Mexico and Baja and makes a trip every year to bring them gifts and goods. We chatted for nearly an hour, and then I saw the 2 American tourists pull up. I'm now 0 for 2, as these 2 guys were also the nicest guys in the world. Why am I such a pre-judging idiot? Jaime and Greg used to work for a huge energy company in California and are now retired. They had driven down to check out Jaime's new condo he'd just bought in Puerto Vallarta (he was born in Mexico and has dual citizenship).
I really hate to think what people think of me upon their 1st impression.
Just as we were about to board, a fellow motorcyclist pulls up next to me on an older KLR. I tried my best to not think anything as we introduced ourselves. This guy, Cory, is a bush pilot in the Yukon. He bought his bike, which had been sitting in a snowdrift for a year, for $1800 canadien and had never even started it until it was time to put it on the ferry from the Yukon down to Vancouver. On the back of his bike he had several large duffles that contained a para-glider. This crazy Canuck had travelled some 3000 miles on a bike he had never ridden to come para-gliding in Mexico. Lest I think I was hardcore!
I was looking forward to having some interesting company for the long ride ahead. But first, I had to get the XR safely secured in the ships hold. Because of their smaller size, motorcycles are the last to board. I was wishing I had known that ahead of time because that would have meant a few more hours not wasted in Mazatlán. Oh well, at least I met some interesting people and learned a lesson not to be so judgmental.
Soon after I wheeled the bike aboard the crew sealed the bay doors and I felt the boat set free from the dock. I had barely begun to tie some shock cord from the handlebars to the floor when I realized I was all alone. When the ferry is at sea, no one is allowed in the cargo bay for safety and security reasons. This means that any way up to the upper decks is sealed off by fire doors. I hastily finished tying another line and began to look around for an exit. I found the fire doors easily enough, but there was no opening them, save some sort of real emergency. The thought of 19 hours in this cargo bay, with overbearing diesal fumes and no windows to see the horizon in case the rapidly approaching nausea of sea sickness overtook me, started a slight twinge of panic in my gut. It had only been about 5 minutes, but time was irrelavant to my escape. I began to squeeze through tightly packed cars and underneath gently rocking semi-trailers, trying desperately to find anyway up. Heading back towards the bike I was really starting to regret the recent turn of events. What were the next 18.7 hours going to be like locked away in this smelly brig? I then noticed a small hatch that I hadn't seen before. With further inspection, it lead to a 2 story ladder that climbed into pitch black. I tried to convince myself that, because obviously no one knew I was still down here nor did they care, I had to take it upon myself to get out. Ignoring the thoughts that told me that I was going to set off an alarm, or be detained for being a stowaway, or worse, I carefully ascended upwards.
My eyes slowly adjusted and I could see another hatch above. A slight push let in a little daylight. No turning back now. I peeked my head through to the astonishment of a few dozen Mexican onlookers on the observation deck above. No one made a move so I continued to extricate myself. I found myself in a restricted area on the ship's stern so I quickly egresses over the rail and through a door. What nobody else knows, won't hurt me.
I spent the next 18.5 hours enjoying conversation with my new friends, getting tossed back and forth trying to sleep in high seas, and trying not to worry about how the bike was faring because I left it only partly tied down. I could not wait to be off this infernal boat and on dry land. I could not wait to rip up some dirt in Baja!
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