May 15, 2008 -- Super 8 Motel -- Nogales, Arizona, USA

In a move which the US government may yet come to regret, the Border and Customs Service has readmitted us into the USA. We successfully crossed the border around 3:30 pm, although our crossing was not without some drama.

Once again, we took our time getting ready to leave, finally hitting the road around 8:30 am. We stopped at the Pemex station just outside San Carlos. I filled the truck with diesel, and then filled all the boat's tanks and jerry cans with gas. I just couldn't pass up hauling some of that Mexican $2.50/gallon gas home with me. The drive north on Highway 15 was relatively uneventful. The road surface was quite bumpy in places, with patches on top of patches. We passed through at least a half dozen stretches of road construction, which slowed us down a bit. As we neared the border, the road gradually gains in elevation, and the countryside transitions from desert to chapparel. The last few towns you pass through before reaching the border clearly show the border's influence. Vendors displaying copper ware, hats, and ceramics line the road. Locals take advantage of the speed bumps, called topes, and hawk things like tortilla packages at your vehicle windows when you slow down for the bumps.

A little further on, we began maneuvering into the (hopefully) proper lanes for crossing the border. Our route was the one which semi-trucks use. Three northbound lanes are designated for trucks, and one for cars and RV's. A single lane handles southbound traffic. Things went well for a mile or two, and then, after rounding a curve, I saw semi-trucks out in the car/RV lane. The truck lanes were choked with semis, none moving, and some had apparently tried using the car lane to get further up the line. Truckers in the proper lanes wouldn't let them back in, so a huge backup started developing. To make things worse, some trucks and cars tried passing by using the southbound lane. This worked for a brave few, but just as we arrived, a truck trying to sneak by northbound encountered a southbound truck. They didn't collide, but just met nose to nose. Soon, at least a dozen trucks were lined up, facing in both directions and no one could move at all. It was a very comical scene, and I'm still amazed that they didn't just close the road permanently and build a new bypass route. Somehow, they managed to untangle the mess. A young Mexican with a bundle of tortillas walked by, just as things started to move. He leaned out into the oncoming lane, and signaled us to follow the truck ahead of us. We did so, and started making progress. We were rolling down the hill, back in our proper lane when Sandy looked back into the truck bed. Guess what. Our friendly traffic controller had hopped into the truck bed for a free ride up to the border. He gave us a toothy grin and enthusiastically pointed ahead, urging us to keep on trucking. We finally reached the backup line for the border crossing, stopped, and he hopped out, grinned again, and then moved off to sell his tortillas.

He joined a large crowd of hawkers who took advantage of the cars waiting at the border. They would walk past rolled up windows, selling religions statues, sombreros, CD's, tortillas, and newspapers. Some were just outright begging. An extensive shanty town in the ravines below the roadway likely serve as home for many of these people. It was a very sad and uncomfortable scene. We were very relieved to finally reach the head of the line and drive across the border. We were greeted by a uniformed US Border and Customs agent who asked where we'd been. We answered a few simple questions and showed him our passports. Not unexpectedly, he asked us to pull over into a lane for a little further inspection. We did so, and a very friendly Customs agent took a quick look into the ice chest we had in the truck. We had to toss out a couple packages of previously opened meat products which contained pork, and that was it. We were back in the good old USA. We drove over to the Super 8, checked in, and made our first telephone call in 2 months, to son Ken. It was great to hear his voice once again.