Bienvenido to my Mexico Journal
November 2002 to March 2003

Colima is about 1,200 miles south of Nogales, Arizona.  Cross the border and drive hard for three days...

I've been trying to write about hang gliding in Mexico for years, with mixed results.  This year, armed with my little digital camera, I will try to let the photos speak a thousand words, kind of like National Geographic...!
Above you see three of the four gringos who smuggled in the gliders.  Did I mention we are glider smugglers?   That's "Buffalo" Bill Wiebe to the left.  Bill decided about a month prior to this photo to join me.  That was good; nobody else was foolish enough!  Then there's Dorreen "Never Give Up" Smith; without Dorreen's help we'd probably STILL be at the border.  But Dorreen lives in Mexico, and met us in Tucson and came along just to help.  Then there's "Radioactive" Dan Prichett.  "Rad" Dan, as he's known throughout the glidehead World, is really industrial strength.  Rad Dan heard I was heading south and signed on immediately.  It took him three days to drive all the way home from Phoenix, grab his harness and stuff, and drive back to Phoenix to load up...  I'm grateful for them all.

Does it look like we have seven hang gliders, three paragliders and a trike wing?  But it wasn't any of that stuff the Federales were interested in...  They cancelled our permit and ripped the entry sticker off the windshield when they realized that what was hanging on the swim step of my motorhome was NOT a boat- but a flying machine.  We spent much of the rest of the day negotiating, and Dorreen on the cell phone, until finally we were faxed a (fake I might ad) invitation to attend an airshow and were re-issued the necessary permits.  Alas- when finally- after all day at the border, we rolled through and started our journey south, we were chased-down by a Mexican border cop with lights flashing and sirens howling for yet another inspection.  In the photo above we are actually back at the border facing NORTH.

Loco!

But we made it...

This is where Dorreen lives, Bahia Kino, in the northern Mexico state of Sonora.  This is a great place to be a triker and Dorreen and her hombre Alfredo fly a Tucan 503 with a Chronos 16.

We had a couple of pleasant days here, we all got some airtime in the trike, and each day got windier and windier.  Finally, we awoke one morning and it was already blown-out.  So we loaded all gear below decks and up on the poopdeck and set sail for the south of Mexico...

Next stop- Colima

The Zaragoza family keeps antique cars.  They party out on the runway too.  Here they've pulled the cars out for a sunset cervesa.  These two gringos seen here, were a BIG help.  Gracias amigos!  The Volcan de Fuego de Colima is the star of the show down in these parts.

I have entered into a lease/buy-back arrangement with Esteban Zaragoza de la Fuente over this fine machine.  It is, I think, a 1979 Dodge.  It has a King Cab and a four-speed on the floor.  There's a slant six under the hood.  Rad Dan and I designed the rack from junk we found around the airfield.  We resurrected an old seat from some long-forgotten sedan and threw it in back.  We hope the alacranes will abandon ship.  Now, we can accommodate six gringos and six gliders in comfort, if not style...  When it comes to flying, we leave should the dogs at home.  Load 'em up!

The road to Launch at La Cumbre is a hand-made cobblestone affair, as are most in Mexico, and very durable.  This early in the season it still has a green tinge with grass growing between the stones.  This time of year you see many tarantulas too.  There are also plenty of iguanas some of them three feet long.  They are much harder to catch than either scorpions or spiders.

I just love the little scooter I brought along.  It gives me great freedom, it's obviously very economical, and it's perfect for the narrow streets of Colima.  Groucho loves it too.  In fact, just this morning I heard a crash and a 'YELP!' and I looked out my window and Grouch had knocked it over.  He was trying to climb aboard I guess.  This morning my Mexican amigo asked me with a straight face if the helmet was for astronauts.
I've gotta get a fleet of these things for my gringos, because they are just so fun.  Dangerous too though.  I prefer to stick to the back streets and country lanes where traffic is not such an issue.  I put ten bucks in my pocket and hop on and go get lost.  It's great fun, I find hidden treasures, and I talk with the locals.  They are always surprised when the bato on the scooter shows up, removes his astronauts' helmet, and he turns out to be a gringo.  "¡Vengo en paz amigos!"

Here you get the finest huevos rancheros known to man.

I order my huevos over easy, with frijolitos, arroz y aguacate.  This is always served with tortilla, limon y salsa ranchero.  I ask for a small orden de fruta.  The results are indescribable.  This morning, I washed my breakfast down with an agua fresca de piña con sandia.
Ah... the simple pleasures of life.  The bill came to P34 ($3.50)
I am trying to talk the family into opening a northern branch in Arlington, just so I can go there for breakfast.  They seem to be giving the idea a great deal of consideration.  They will need lots of clothes when they arrive, but I don't discount the possibility!

As I am having my breakfast the Corona truck stops across the street.  They unload cervesa y hielo.  We will not die of thirst any time soon, but here is a sight you just don't see in Gringolandia!

I take a little cruise on my scooter, head uptown to the Zocalo.  This hotel is the site of several past misadventures including The Swizzle Stick From Hell.

  
You find this kind of stuff all over town as Navidad approaches.

I get back from Breakfast and the sky looks great.  There's no other flyers around but me vale madre, I'm going flying anyway!

Well, I sunk out yesterday, December 5, 2002.  But I skyed-out today.  Its my camera.  My camera is jinxed.  Whenever I fly with the camera I piano.  Whenever I fly without I sky out.  I think the Volcan de Fuego has some bad juju for me and doesn't want me aiming my camera at its lofty heights.  The Volcan knows... this is the year... this is the year I soar that sucker!  Today I flew with the camera and struggled and struggled and got slightly above launch and then tried to take a few shots.  Well... the batteries died.  I'm just getting used to this thing and digital cameras use lots of juice.  So... the batteries died and up I went.  I topped four grand and headed out, caught another ride to three grand along the way and arrived at the airfield with plenty of sky under my feet.

It was bitchin'!

Max lives here and Groucho is a gringo.  They fight and chase lizards all day long.  They take lots of siestas.

Yesterday's storm blew all the haze and heat and humidity away.  I stepped out on the apron this morning and my eyes popped.  This really IS smoke pouring out of the crater.  Perhaps today is the day we soar the Volcan de Fuego de Colima...?!

It is Sunday, the only day that Team Colima flies, so Benigno comes to pick me up and we decide to go to Cerro Grande, the other launch site in Colima.  Today is Dia de la Virgen de Guadalupe you see, and there will be about 10,000 pilgrims walking and riding up the mountain, to pay respects to the virgin herself.  I was there once for this event- we made it to launch that day but it was crazy and I don't care to repeat it. As I recall there were about a hundred vehicles of all descriptions going UP the narrow mountain road, and a few large trucks trying to go DOWN.  It was a religious mess.

 So...Benigno arrives and he has a friend with him.  As we load up I introduce myself:
"Como se llama usted?" I ask.  "What's your name?"
"Soy Milton." he says.  I'm Milton.
"Milton?" I ask.  I had just never heard it pronounced that way: Meel-tone, I was just a bit surprised.  I have never met anyone named Milton- here was the first.
Benigo pipes up with a grin, "Meel-tone Helada" he says.  Now, this sounds to me alot like Milton Frozen (helada means frozen).  But then Benigno repeats it only different this time: "Mil tonelada" he said this time, Meel-tonelada, which now translates to "a thousand tons".  The gringo finally gets a chuckle at Mil Tonelada's expence, as we head out for some flying.  He WAS a little chubby.  Mil tonelada.

Benigno drives wildly to launch, and this I do NOT understand.  He has his whole family onboard, he has two friends onboard, and he has ME!  There are six of us aboard yet he drives totally crazed and I sit in back and hold on and I'm a terrified pathetic old gringo and I hollar for Benny to slow the chingada down and... he never does.  We drive so damn fast that ultimately we lose the foam pad we are using for the gliders and so Benny is forced to slow down indeed stop and go back for the pad.   We have lost time now anyway, and 'wreckless' is the only word that comes to mind.
When finally we come to a halt on the turn-off from the highway to the two-lane dirt road to launch I get out of the truck and give Benny Hell.  He seems quite oblivious to my paranoia.

Of course, we get to launch and wait two hours for cycles.  What was the hurry?

We had to wait two hours because when we got to launch at Cerro Grande the air was absolutely calm.  I mean- it was hot and still.  Soon, there were some very weak cycles.  These eventually picked up to respectable.  The first few paragliders who launched sunk out to the piano field.  Then finally, a paraglider starts to soar.  Soon Benny punches and starts to circle,  he is climbing but slowly.  So I bail and catch the thermal right off launch. We fly for an hour, climb over Cerro Grande to about eight grand, and glide out to a nice field, a huge field with nice grass to land on.

After flying we went for comida and I had a pollo en mole.  I said I like to eat, huh?  Did I mention that?  Well... this pollo en mole was flat-out the best I have ever tasted.  There are just so many flavors.  Is it the chicken?  But of course.  Cinnamon?  Sí.. !  Is is nutmeg?  Maybe?  Chocolate?  Well... it's made with cocoa yes, but chocolate does NOT describe pollo en mole.  It is simply indescribable, by this scribe anyway!  I eat every fleck of that chicken's flesh, and sop up the sauce with a tortilla.  These eats are exquisite, and very cheap too.

I head home and shower and jump on the scooter and blaze for the centro.  As I ride the scooter I am amazed that there is... no traffic.  The streets are deserted...  But that changes as I get closer to the central square and by the time I get nearer I have discovered why... everyone is partying on the zocalo!  The whole city is here and it's partytime!  I whip out the camera, try to capture the buzz...

I had a few cervesas and then went to check out the band.  No not these guys-   they are the house band who perform nightly on the terrace at Hotel Ceballos.   These guys are good and always inject a bit of comedy into the show, but I hurried across the zocalo to catch the main act because they were really rockin'!

Imagine my shock and wonder then, to discover that... these are kids!  Kids rocking the whole town!  It was fantastic, and I couldn't believe how good they were.  Later, I get a picture of them...

On the way home I find some old folks relaxing and watching the action.  They have a very nice shop, and this is where I buy bee pollen and amaranto for my breakfast.

December 9, 2002  We finally get that day I've been waiting for- hot and clear.  The wind is from the south which will blow thermals towards launch at La Cumbre.  I load up with the Zaragoza family and a gringo couple I met a few days ago. ( Hey there Scott and Jean!)  We get up to La Cumbre and are met with piles of trash left by the pilgrims.  Its really gross!  The pilgrims were up here paying homage to the Virgen de Guadalupe, and they have totally trashed the place.  It is gross and I am angry but...  But the day looks great.  As I'm setting up they burn a cane field behind the mountain and the smoke plume rises and rises untill it develops a cumulous top.  I set up and punched.  I had to work a little and lost the first thermal but hooked the next one, bigtime.  I whip out my little digital and get the following shots on the way up:

It was excellent flying!

 December 11  Three redneck paraglider pilots showed up yesterday.  They said they read my web page journal from last year and decided they just had to come to Mexico and see for themselves!  Actually, only one of them is a redneck and that's his name really- Rouge LaNeck!  There's Pete from Oz too and Miguel, who was higher than me yesterday.  They are a colorful bunch- and very happy to be here, by all accounts.  They say that everything they read in my journal from last year has proven to be true- especially my detailed description of topes (TOE-pays).  Apparently, they took a few topes at full speed before they learned to pay closer attention!  They claim to be keeping a journal too, so I hope to have that someday, in these same virtual pages. They also say that when they announced to family and friends about their decision to head south-of-the-border they were met with lots of negative feedback.  "You'll never make it... they'll rob you blind... they'll throw you in jail... MEXICO??!"
We all flew yesterday and had a great time.  How about 3.5 hours in a paraglider?  These guys are gonna rack up some airtime... I flew the milk-run, taking the first thermal I topped out and leaving with the altitude. I drifted away from La Cumbre and caught a marginal second thermal.  I came over the airfield less than a half hour after launching and hung there circling in little scraps of lift for a while.  I was right over my breakfast spot LONCHERIA Viera.  After flying and numerous chilly cervesas, I took them to El Trebol for dinner and we had Pollo en Mole again.  Rough LaNeck, the redneck, liked it so much he had two orders.  I thought he might ask for thirds!

After dinner there were parades in town...

December 11  We get another great day of flying- clear as a bell and strong thermals.  My new PG buddies all flew and it was pretty rowdy.  One of the local PG flyers, a very talented kid, shows up on launch and throws a tantrum.  It was so embarrassing that I couldn't watch- and I couldn't take my eyes off him either.  The short version is that if he's going to spike his helmet into the ground like that, next time maybe we can swap lids first- I'll take his fancy helmet with the nice Jell-Coat finish and he can toss my bucket!  Next- the kid takes off and sinks nearly to the ground and then hooks an awesome ride to... well... it looked to me like he climbed a mile and a half... drifting a little but not much...  I was still standing around launch at the time and I suited up and punched and I had a nice flight and all but... I never got to cloudbase and I never felt like I could get very far...  But the kid went downwind.  I landed at the airfield however, any day I can do that is just fine with me.  Maybe I should point out to any flyer who is thinking about attending one of my tours that I am a RECREATIONAL FLYER.  Sure... I like to go somewhere and I go "over the back" every chance I get.  But I do not insist on big mileage and my main concern is a friendly field at the end of the flight and a delicious repast at the end of the day.  For me... THAT'S HANG GLIDING!  The visiting PG flyers all have good safe flights, but are disappointed they haven't really hooked it big.  If they stick around, they will!

Mañana is another day...!

 
December 12  Well... mañana has come and gone and I sunk like a stone.  Stunk, would be a better word!  I knew the cycle was over when I ran off the hill but I just couldn't wait any longer.  There was sweat dripping down the inside of my glasses and my eyes were stinging with sweat and I was a gringo rostizado.  It was hot...!
Two of the three PG pilots who got off before I did hit the cycle and dialed in for the best flying of their careers.  I flew maybe five minutes, I hit nothing but calm or down air, and an observer on the ground said he figured something was wrong I sunk so fast- I was injured or... had to take a crap...  Crap all right!
But it was great anyway, watching these gringos get a really good taste of Mexican skies
.

December 13 and 14 were cloudy and still.  The flying didn't look worth it, but then, that's waht I thought about yesterday, the 15th, too.  I skyed-out yesterday.  But back to the cloudy days- the PG gringos are all hung over that morning, yet grinning from ear to ear like the cat who ate the mouse,  There might be a more appropriate reference to 'feline' actually, but it doesn't come to mind, so to speak.  It seems, however, that these gringos spent the previous night in the arms of angels.  They all agree that they couldn't believe their luck!
It astounds me then, that they pack up and head out of town for the mountain village of Tapalpa, from whence they plan a return to Gringolandia.  Pedro- the Auzzie- has the right idea.  He's thinking of selling his truck and staying in Colima!

December 15 is partly cloudy and very still and muggy.  I don't think there's much chance for good thermals but I have been wrong about that before.  Besides, it is Domingo, the day when the local pilots all fly, and- a bonus this- there are dragraces going on at the airfield, which is also the quarter-mile drag strip.  Only in Mexico can a public-access airfield be turned into a drag strip, or should I say- never in the States.  This may happen other places for all I know, I've just never seen it anywhere else...  So, there's about a thousand spectators at the field...  Could be a blast if there's any thermals.
Sure enough- I have to wait on launch for more than an hour but finally some launchable cycles roll up the hill and I punch right into one.  I circle out to 4,500' and head for the airfield in town.  I get a great glide and pull up over the crowd and I'm so paranoid that I will be run over by some loco bato at the wheel of a souped-up Rambler that I spend my entire descent passing my shadow over the start gate.  I'm worried that Groucho will run out on the field and get smashed by a speeding Rabbit.  I am so preoccupied with circumstances that I forget all about my camera.  
But they see me all right, me and my shadow, and as I blaze in on final past the bleachers the crowd howls with delight.  I flop in like a fish on my stomach and there's yet another howl as Groucho runs out and licks my face.  Benigno and Pedro also make the field and it was a good time had by all!

December 16  The day looks great- very clear sky.  I wait on launch until 2:30 and then take the first launchable cycle.  I sink all the way to the last knob, hook a thermal back to launch-level, and then piano.  Somehow- I blew it...  Hasta mañana then! 

Tonight I found the camote cart.  I have not seen one in Colima.  Indeed, this is only the second camote cart I have seen in my entire gringo life.  The great thing about the camote cart is not only the delicious camotes- which are like sweet potatoes, but the weird piercing-moaning sound the cart makes to announce it's presence.  The operator releases water into the pipe you notice sticking out of the flames and it turns instantly into steam.  The steam whistles as it exits the pipe.  wwwhhhoooOOOOWWWWHHHEEEEeeeooo!
I love camotes...

Finally, on Sunday my luck turned and I had just a dandy flight from La Cumbre, I climbed out above launch and headed for the airfield.  Over the field I started circling in a marginal thermal that drifted over town.  By the time I hit WalMart I was nicely cored.  Over the iglesia I was skying-out.  By the time I drifted to the other side of town I saw 6,500' MSL.

Then, today, I had two guys show up from Monterrey, Mexico.  Only one of them could fly while the other was forced to baby-sit.  The day looked terrible compared to yesterday- very overcast and muggy.  We flew anyway, and skyed-out!  It was excellent- very smooth and thermals everywhere.  We even made it back to the field.  These guys were my first glideheads this winter, and I'm sure glad they came along- Mauricio and Brandon.