This is it! My last adventure before I headed home, and it sure was a grand one. A great grand adventure.
LESSER SPOTTED TUCSON
Way, way, way back in Belfast I made a new friend at Garrick’s Pub. I did this by insulting the poor fella in the most charming way. I called him old. Imagine that? Despite my insufferable cheek we became friends over a couple of ales and he invited me to visit Tucson, Arizona if I was ever passing through. Poor bastard didn’t know what he was getting himself into. As it turned out I had a week left in America after my National Parks tour that I didn’t know what to do with so off I popped to Tucson. Hello Jimmy D.
I didn’t get to see much of Tucson, (pronounced Tooson) but I did get rewarded with a couple of very cool wildlife moments. A mother and kitten Bobcat sighting in my friends backyard on my first morning there and the sounds of a coyote pack yapping up a storm on my last evening. Apparently small pets tend to go mysteriously missing from time to time. There are many hopeful Lost Dog posters. Not lost – eaten!
Mummy Bobcat
Baby Bobcat. Hello kitty!
Less than half an hour after landing in Tucson I found myself at its newest and only Aussie pub talking to the publican Glenn from Perth and listening to an itinerant musician from the Gold Coast named Squid sing one of the best renditions of Waltzing Matilda ever followed by a litany of songs by bands like The Church and Redgum. Surreal.
I never did get to try one of those sausage rolls.
The next day we bundled me up into a way too large leather jacket, plonked me on the back of a Harley Davidson and rode to Mexico for one last grand adventure before I came home. I didn’t publish this post until after we were back safe so nobody could spill the beans to my mother. She won’t be happy but she can at least find out way after the fact.
Our destination was Puerto Penasco for a motorbike rally. Yep, this happy tree hugging hippy chick went all bad biker bitch! Before I get to share all about that anthropological experience we had to get there.
There were many advantages to a long ride on the back of a motorbike for this happy hugging horti. It was basically a four hour hug with uninterrupted views of nature. Woohoo. I was like a little koala back there. The Harley was a very comfortable machine and my friend very kindly stopped every hour so my butt didn’t get too sore. I was glad for that jacket (even though I looked like a complete unit) as there was a chill wind coming off the desert.
Unit!
From Tucson to Puerto Penasco is around 350 kms. The journey begins in Arizona’s Saguaro fields and eventually through Organ Pipe Cactus National Monument before we reached the Mexican border. Gets a little less interesting after that. The border is easy to get through, a little harder to come home. The landscape is mostly flat and dry with the odd peak in the distance.
The Organ Pipe Cactus, Stenocereus thurberi is native to Mexico and just that particular region in the USA. Not dissimilar to the Saguaro in that their pollination is mostly done by bats at night and has edible fruit, however it is vastly different in that they have many branches all coming from a single trunk just above the ground. The other predominant species like the Barrel Cactus and Ocatillo weren’t looking their best at that time of year. I just have to come back! Damn. It would be a treat to come through in Spring when they all burst into flower.
Organ Pipe Cactus
PUERTO PENASCO
Puerto Penasco translates as Rocky Point in English and is in Sonora, a free zone area in Mexico. It was traditionally a fishing village and that industry remains today going hand in hand with the American resort based tourism and their insatiable hunger for shrimp. The seafood on offer was pretty damn impressive, we did eat some tasty morsels. They even have a shrimp god. All hail the almighty giant prawn.
I love shrimp!
There is a very colourful historical story attached to this town. Back in prohibition times an enterprising man came south of the border, built a hotel, drilled a well and began a thriving alcohol based tourism business for thirsty Americans. Sadly at some point he fell out with the locals and retaliated by burning down the hotel, blowing up the water well and leaving town. Take that! Today the beach is lined with condos in various states of construction. The economic woes of the world are very evident here as the money went back north or just plain stopped.
Our accommodation in Puerto Penasco was gorgeous. A five bedroom, five bathroom apartment on the ninth floor of a beachfront condominium. Breathtaking views of the sea, pelicans, dolphins, a heated pool and spa all right there.
Yep. That’s one ugly view
THE ROCKY POINT MOTORBIKE RALLY
I never imagined at the beginning of this year that I would find myself in Mexico at a bikers rally. Actually I never imagined myself at any time in my life ever at a bikers rally. Carpe diem. One wacky adventure after another. Hmm what can I say? Wow! Not really my scene but wow!
Motorcyclists are a breed apart. Every year thousands of leather clad guys and gals descend on this small town for some wild times. They stare at each other’s bikes, show off, do burnouts on their tyres, they drink, they party, buy cheap Mexican pharmaceuticals, visit the strip clubs and for some reason convince women to show their breasts for beads. Strings of cheap beads for boobs! I kept my puppies firmly under wraps. I can’t say I really understood or agreed with any of it but it sure is one hell of a spectacle. For the most part everyone is just there to let off some steam in an alternate reality for a couple of days. Anything goes in Mexico after all. Yes there were a few outlaw gangs in attendance but mostly it seemed to be a friendly peaceable event. For the four nights that we were there we really only spent one day and evening amongst the madness. Happy days. The rest of the time I could be found by the beach and pool.
Viagra anyone?
By the time we got to the ride home it was t-shirt weather so I got to ditch the ridiculous oversized jacket and just enjoy the breeze (and the chapped lips). Of course I was a pro by then and the journey home was over all too soon. The longest part is the queue at the border as they check that you are not an escaping illegal. I was wishing I was so they could send me back. It was hard to leave.
NEXT STOP AUSTRALIA
That’s right folks, the grand adventure is over. I’m going home. Sad face. Seven and a half months of travel done and dusted. 226 days. 7 months and 12 days. 32 weeks and 2 days. I found an app that works that out for you! Basically, not long enough but longer than most I know. France, Spain, Italy, Switzerland, England, Scotland, Ireland, Canada, USA. I mightn’t stay home for long. I don’t think these itchy feet of mine are ever going to rest. They’ve got a taste for the road. Watch this space.
A few last pretties
Bloody Mary cures what ails you in Mexico
Jimmy D and I didn’t have any fun at all!
The last hug!
Happy Horti 