The next day we set out to explore farther down the scenic beach and visit some spots that Bill and Nora had frequented for some 20 years. As we pulled off the dirt road and headed across the sand toward the water, we came upon the most unkempt campsite, one that told of a lengthy stay near the sandy beach dunes. Parked in front of the tents was a hippified VW bus, and the area was a littered mess. As we steered around it, Bill was leading the way when a dingy long-haired man jumped in front of his Bronco. The hippie yelled that no one had ever driven on this beach and no one ever would. At that, Bill shifted his tranny in Reverse and proceeded to back up. The confused hippie asked what was up, and Bill essentially told him he was getting a running start to run him down if needed. He hit the gas and narrowly missed the beach vigilante as he wheeled down the beach. While this excitement ensued, Nora knitted furiously, making some new piece of clothing for a grandchild.
With the beach ahead clear of distractions, we ran miles and miles of clean white sand bordered by blue hues of seawater. We managed to get stuck a few times, but a quick pull from another rig had us all moving again. We spent much of the day exploring the area and the open beaches.
The following day, our trip north was less eventful than our journey down, but nonetheless fun. We stopped at several of the small ocean villages along the way for refreshments or sightseeing. Finding gas was not so simple as looking for the corner station. We managed to get rudimentary directions that took us to a house with a 55-gallon drum in the front yard. For a handful of American dollars, the owner hand-pumped us a reserve supply of petrol, which we were able to store in our spare fuel cans, figuring to use the possibly substandard fuel only if really needed.
After getting our fill of dusty backroads and bumpy tracks, we hit the asphalt to make a little better time to the north. All trip, Bill and Nora had been hauling a fullsize barbecue grill on the top of their Bronco. But, somewhere along the way as they bumped over a rise in the road, the grill let loose and tumbled and scraped down the highway. Good-natured Bill didn't dare let it spoil the day. We were relaxed in Mexico, so we strapped it back on and off we went.
Those long stretches of remote beaches are a little harder to find these days, but there are always good places to explore off the beaten path. There's sure to be some piece of adventure near you to be shared with good friends with a love of wheeling.
This place oozed relaxation therapy. | 
Crowds? There were no crowds - just our few rigs, locked hubs, and some good times. |
During the days, we played on the desolate beaches, running miles of soft sand in 4-Hi. | |