The Road To Isla Aguada

February 2, 2009

Traveling through the states of Veracruz, Tabasco, and Campeche was a display of differences. The roads got better and better. State and Federal highways became wider and smoother. Roads through towns and villages also improved a bit. Eventually, as we went from sandstone and sand to limestone shelf to coral sand the roadways got firmer and friendlier. Asphalt patchwork quilts are in large replaced by concrete.

With the change in geology comes changes in flora and fauna. Cattle graze knee-deep on bog plants as the egrets ride on their backs. Fan palms give way to coco palms. Swamps and marshes share the countryside with higher, dryer areas of less luxurious flora.

Trees bloom with clusters of bright red flowers the size of coffee cups. Other trees – devoid of this year's leaves as yet – adorn the very tips of their branches with clumps of intense yellow blossoms in riotous size and profusion. Tropical birdsong fills the air.

Occasional fields of cane, corn or pineapple - looking a bit like small U.S. agribusiness - appear occasionally, but wild lands and family farms still dominate the landscape. Everyone's yard is home to a few animals and quite a few banana trees.

Outside kitchens are the rule. It makes a lot of sense to cook in a palapa instead of heating up the house. Fire safety is certainly served; burn a palapa, not a home!

Old men dress up and ride into town on faithful horses. Families walk home from church together. People snack in roadside palapas and young men escort young girls on small, shiny motorcycles. Sunday morning brings a day of rest.

The Campeche state line has an agricultural inspection station. Some products are forbidden for import to Campeche. No one is sure exactly what the list is, because it seems to vary a bit. Known “No-no's” include pork, chicken and eggs. This year's surprise is local mandarin oranges in another rig. We planned a “cut your losses” approach by sacrificing a small package of pork and another of chicken. The inspector asked, we volunteered, everyone was happy. As he explained in broken English we shrugged and said such things as “¡Adios, Gayo!”(G'bye, Rooster!). It got a great laugh and a bon voyage from the inspector. We were off on our way. Anna refilled the freezer from the laundry hamper.

The road takes us out onto a chain of coral barrier islands that create peaceful bay about 30 by 10 miles in size. The white coral sand beaches are dotted with palapas and picnickers. Kids splash in the near-surfless turquoise water as smoke from barbacoas flavor the air. We are approaching our destination. A glance from the causeway fulfills the promise; Isla Aguada's “Freedom Shores Hotel and RV Park” is in sight.

The Wagonmaster spends about two and a half hours in the unrelenting mugginess getting all the rigs parked and we all wander forth tired but happy.

Happy hour is replaced this evening by Smugglers' Potluck. A little bit of chicken showed up, and lots of pork and deviled eggs were in the wonderful mix. We met the owners who offered us an amazing array of services from (soon to be fixed) internet service to (soon to be fixed) good water pressure to mototaxi rides, boat rides, laundry service, agua purificada, and a nice little restaurant full of a nice mix of substantial American and Mexican cuisine.

Living is easy. Ahead lie two days of fun with the rigs parked. The shade is welcome, the breeze is balmy, the view is spectacular.