Visiting a quiet beach, and the Kino missions at Pitiquito, Oquitoa, and Tubutama
The border crossing at Sasabe is interesting. Highway 286 passes through scenic ranch lands on the eastern side of the Baboquivari Mountains in the Altar Valley - and the inspiring Baboquivari Peak. The Buenos Aires National Wildlife Refuge is here, too, and is the last thing that says, "America" before entering Mexico. However, the term America is a sticky one - to the rest of the western hemisphere, there are three Americas: South, Central, and North. I've had Mexican friends correct me by saying that we were both Amercan, as in we're both from one of the Americas. I'm really a North American; so are Mexicans since Mexico is, well, part of North America.
This might be partly why I enjoy going to Mexico; to re-learn that the world is a big place, and that there are kind people with interesting cultures out there. It's just a worthy thing to experience.
At Sasabe, there is a little checkpoint on the Arizona side where a handful of border patrol are stationed. Immediately at the border the road turns from pavement to gravel, and a small white hut houses a pair of Federales. They wanted to know what the big green thing was on the back of the truck (the Eezi-Awn tent), and then demanded that we open it up.
I got out and started to undo the cover when one of the guards motioned to me that it wasn't necessary. "Que te vaya bien" they told me. I'm not sure what made them change their mind, but I'll be that it had something to do with me using Spanish and being cooperative.
Here's what I love about my wife: she was willing to do this trip at the drop of a hat. More or less, our conversation began with us wondering what we ought to do for the weekend.
I'd wanted to visit the missions at Pitiquito, Oquitoa, and Tubutama for some time and so I suggested we camp on the beach in Puerto Peñasco - she likes the beach and we could get some classic margaritas.
From the road out of Caborca to Peñasco, I saw signs to a place called Desemboque. I asked Brooke to check the map.
"It's on the coast" she told me.
"Let's go there instead. I'll bet we can get some fresh seafood there and have a really quiet beach. Like that time we went to San Carlos."
At first, she was a little shy about it. Spontaneous travel will yield one of to outcomes most of the time:
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We arrived in El Desemboque well before the sun went down. At the north end of the town is an RV park and hotel.
"That will be our back up plan" I told Brooke, then proceeded to the south end of town to see everything first. At this end, we found a strip of beach featured with six or seven palapas. A short old lady waved at us to park.
Between just three lonely, rotting teeth she began, "Me llamo Marilouisa."
"Cuanto cuesto para la noche?" I asked her.
"Solo cien cincuenta pesos. Todo el dia, todo la noche, y todo de manana, mi hijo." Basically 15 bucks to camp and spend the next day. For Mexico, it's steep. For a quiet, clean, safe beach it's a steal. We'd have the place to ourselves and the beach is phenominally clean.
Well after dark, I located a little deposito and bought a bucket full of Tecate. Brooke and I sat on the beach listening to the waves and watching the sky. We got through nine of the Tecates before climbing into the tent.
* * *
In the morning, a small car approached our campsite. A woman poked her head out the window and was holding a black purse.
"Es suya, es suya. La bonita se le olvidio en el restaurante" she told me.
Brooke said, "Oh, that's mine. I must have left it at the restaurant last night."
This, this is Mexico.
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We left El Desemboque for Pitiquito, where we followed the "Ruta de Las Misiones" all the way to Tubutama. From there, we pushed our luck by driving a backroad from Saric to Nogales. While the road was rough in places and we never saw another vehicle, it did pass a tiny town with a school and several ranches in the mountains. I'd love to drive this road again and explore the other roads in the area.
