Driving a Retired Ambulance to San Carlos, Mexico

For years we had been punishing my poor Subaru with heavy loads of boating gear as we traveled back and forth from California to Washington. After 13 years and several wheel bearings we began to worry about the Subaru's ability to make our now annual round trip to Mexico. Last spring when we we broke down in Portland, Oregon the handwriting was clearly on the wall.

Greg saw a vehicle in Blaine that set his brain to work. This vehicle was tough, reliable, roomy and a former ambulance. He thought that this would be the perfect vehicle - nothing would have to be left behind. Now we are the proud owners of a 1990 E350 Ford diesel truck (retired ambulance).

All the emergency and medical equipment had been removed; the wires were cut and just left hangin'. Greg spent a month going over our new truck. The electrical system was the biggest problem, followed by the brakes. The front brakes had been completely rebuilt but the vehicle had been left sitting unused in a wet Washington field for at least a year and rust took over. Greg discovered just how hard it would be to change a flat if we should have one. He needed to remove the front wheels to check the brakes but couldn't get the wheels off - they seemed to be welded on. After loosening the nuts and driving around the block a bit they finally loosened enough to be removed. He cleaned up the moving parts and all looked good to go.

We left Blaine for Guaymas on Friday November 1. We planned to join our friends, Ken and Rita, in the Portland, Or area for dinner. Beginning our first trip south in Amby was more of a challenge then we expected. We didn't leave Semiahmoo until after 2pm - still time to make it to dinner.

We didn't make it though because we lost all the lights on the box in Everette. Greg managed to find the problem and we were under way after an hour and a half, arriving at our friends' house after bed time. Ken had waited up for us to make sure we were comfortably situated in his "5 Star" driveway (which conveniently has a PortaPotty next to it since their house is under construction).

We inflated our 20 year-old air mattress on the heavy-duty mattress platform that the prior owner had built. We were pretty comfy for a little more than an hour when we realized that the mattress was going flat rather quickly. Nothing quite as uncomfortable as sleeping on a sheet of plywood - except maybe a bed of cactus needles and rocks!

Despite this, the next day we had an enjoyable day helping our friends work on their home construction - Greg helped Ken with wiring and I learned to install pocket doors (the last time I visited, I learned how to install decorative rock siding). Rita treated me to a trip to Bob's Red Mill Store which is based in Portland. Now I have a nice selection of gluten free products to take to Mexico.

Ken and Greg patched up the mattress and we settled down for much needed sleep. Within minutes the mattress was flat again! Nothing would stop the leak and we gave up and resigned ourselves to another almost sleepless night. We left Portland on a rainy Sunday morning and hoped to make it to Sacramento by Monday afternoon. No such luck!

Amby's engine died on Hwy 5 just south of Corning, CA. Since the fuel gauge doesn't work we assumed that we had miscalculated and ran out of fuel. AAA responded promptly with a can of diesel but Amby still wouldn't start.

One of the problems we have discovered with being the proud owners of a retired ambulance is that many essential service providers don't know what to do with you. No one would insure our new "RV". A search of vin numbers came up blank when I described the vehicle as a ford truck. Only when I reluctantly mentioned that it was former ambulance did they say "Oh, well we can't insure that!". Well why not, I asked. "There isn't a box to check that says 'retired ambulance'". We ended up getting "broad form" auto insurance which covers us as individuals and not the vehicle (it was only about twice the price of ordinary insurance). When I contacted AAA to renew and add the truck, I was informed that they wouldn't tow it. Now they will tow a motor home or a one-ton truck, but there isn't any little box to tick off that says 'retired ambulance'. So, after the nice tow truck driver gave us the fuel he towed us all of six miles to Orland (a town so small that I never noticed it in all the years of driving back and forth to Washington) for the tidy sum of $300.

The up side of this was that there was a great diesel mechanic in Orland. Two days, and over a $1,100 later, we were on our way again. Now we have a new fuel injection pump and throttle sensor. BUT - we didn't have enough fuel to make it to the fuel station (inoperative fuel gauge) and we broke down again. This time however, Greg got to the right lane, took an off ramp, kinda ran a stop sign and swung into a fuel station. All that weight has the benefit of lots of momentum. This time we really were out of fuel. Okay, now maybe we can get going!

Nope, not so fast. Amby won't start. Cranking away to no avail it becomes obvious that the injectors have to be bled after running on empty before the engine will start again. Fortunately for us another troubled traveler was detained long enough in front of us for me to ask him if he would help push our truck from in front of the pump (since station operators aren't too fond of people doing repairs at their fuel islands). He willingly, but with quite a bit of effort, pushed it with his jeep. Fortunately once again, Greg had the necessary tools and in almost no time (comparatively speaking) had the job done and the engine running.

As we neared  Greg's son's home in the Sacramento area I started to smell burning brakes and I assumed it was us. Sure 'nough people started waiving at us. There was so much smoke that I asked if we had a fire extinguisher. We found a shopping center and after lunch at Subway Greg took the front wheels off again. By then the brakes had freed themselves up and all was good to go once agian.

We finally arrived at the "kids" house and sent some time with them and Greg's mother. The grand kids got a kick out of the grandparents driving an ambulance.

Next stop on our journey south was our former community of Columbia in California's gold country

where our sailing buddies and part-time Mulege residents, Ann and Mel, live. We traded our sleeping quarters in the truck for our friends living room futon. We enjoyed our stay so much that when Marina Seca in San Carlos told us that they couldn't move our boat Gitana into the work yard until Tuesday afternoon the 19th, we decided to extend our stay to five days. While there, we did some sightseeing, saw Gravity (which I highly recommend) and dined with our other Columbia boating friends and part-time Mulege residents, Rod and Nita. The mornings were unusually nice for November and we enjoyed our morning coffee outside looking out over the canyon while the various birds enjoyed their morning treats.

 

I thought Cinnamon might enjoy a little ground time so I let him out of the truck. He found that "door back to California" that he has been looking for for the past six years. He must have been imprinted at birth on oak woodland because the moment he touched ground he rolled in the gravelly dirt and set off to explore, his former timidity long forgotten. When it looked like he was headin' off into the woods where he would very likely be eyed as dinner by a coyote or bigger creature, I tried to pick him up. He snarled and hissed, making it abundantly clear that he wanted to stay there. I decided I wasn't ready to be rid of him so it was into the house for the next five days. He wasn't courteous at all to the resident kitty and Ann graciously kept Maddy upstairs.

Mel ponders the situation.

Mel happened to mention that the diesel nozzles in Mexico don't fit into US vehicles so the next day the guys set to work cutting out the fuel filler restriction and while they were at it they cut off a nasty chunk of steel at the head of the bed that had been an accident waiting to happen.

Cinnamon didn't want to leave California but we felt it was time to go and Ann didn't want another cat, especially one that didn't like the one she already had.

 

Thursday Nov. 14th we were on our way to Lukeville, our border crossing destination. Our first night out we slept at the end of a dirt road in Boron, a little community on the western edge of

the Mojave Desert. The following day we stayed in a trailer campground in an even smaller mining town called Ajo (garlic?) The belts on the truck were screaming and Greg noticed that it was getting harder to steer. I had noticed a Napa dealer just before the campground so Greg walked over and managed to purchase one and order another of the belts we needed. That night we dined on chips and salsa, cheese and whatever else we had going bad in our ice chest along with beer and warm wine from the grocery across the road. The next morning he had the belts in hand and once again climbed up to the engine. The belts that were on the truck were not the correct size and the pulleys, just like the brakes, were very rusty and were eating up the belts. That would be another project down the road.

 

Saturday we reached the Organ Pipe Cactus National Monument which stretches along the southern border of Arizona. Situated in the Sonoran Desert, Organ Pipe is a "green desert" and showcases a variety of flourishing species adapted to exist in a harsh desert. We decided that since there was no rush we should stop and explore. There is a wonderful interpretive center and a very nice little walk around the center that provides a view of many of the native plants. We were pleasantly surprised to learn that for only $10 we, as seniors, could get a lifetime family pass to national parks as well as a discount on camping. So after driving the 21 mile loop trail and hiking we enjoyed the great facilities at the Twin Peaks campground for only eight bucks! Now this isn't the peak season for Organ Pipe so there were only nine camp sites in use.

Cinnamon was quite interested in what was outside anytime a door was open. He was in and out several times but usually he stayed under the truck. Is this an orange racoon? No - its Cinnamon!







Organ Pipe Cactus National Monument has its own entry following this one.



 

Looking south into Mexico

Sunday morning we crossed the border at Lukeville without a hitch. Never had to show the properly obtained and duly stamped papers permitting us to bring in the repair parts for Gitana. However, we got stopped twice so the guards could look inside. "Es ambulancia?" Si. We could have smuggled in two people, three cases of booze and who knows what else. They stuck their heads in and that was it!

A "Aduana" customs check point.

We are frequently asked if the roads are safe. The road from Lukeville to Santa Ana is supposed to be a little dicey but we have traveled it twice and there is a lot of traffic and no signs of potential danger. There are two toll roads, which are very safe, between Santa Fe and Guaymas.  Last year there was quite a bit of construction on the toll roads. There still is some but not much.


 

We stopped in Santa Ana and had lunch. I couldn't resist taking a picture of the shrimp seller who was dangling a shrimp from a stick for passing motorists.

 

The shrimp man said "WAIT!" and he struck a pose so I could take another picture. So seeeexy. Guys that had been talking to him all got a good laugh.

We wanted to get some pesos and we got directions - twice, in Spanish, and still ended up walking way out of our way. Hey, we needed the exercise.







Mexico is trying to clean up its act - literally. "No tire basura" - don't litter. There are trash cans along the road but I wonder if anyone empties them because they are always overflowing.

 

"A Road clean and very safe."

We pulled in San Carlos at sunset, parking Ambly behind the motor home of our friends from Sidney, BC, Rose and Robert. Ahead of them was this monster motor home that screamed "Kidnap me. I have lots of money!"

Robert and Rose's modest motor home in the background.

We shared a laugh with Robert over it. Definitely NOT the type of vehicle you want to be driving in Mexico. Robert thought Amby was perfect. Tough with a little rust and a broken spotlight. It says "these folks are definitely poor - don't bother kidnapping them". If someone does try to steal it, they will never figure out how to start it.

Even with all the problems I think this will be a great Mexico vehicle. We just have to be patient and give it some TLC.

Crabbing at Semiahmoo, WA

Greg (R) and Kelvin inspect the Dungeness crabs for minimum size.

I'm from Maryland. Crabbing is in my blood. Maryland crabs are little guys and it takes a lot of work to shell and eat them. My family and friends in Maryland have trouble envisioning west coast Dungeness crabs.

Crab season in the northern Puget Sound area opens on Aug. 15 and runs thru Sept. 30. If the Dept. of Fish and Wildlife likes the numbers that us crabbers report  they extend the season thru the end of the year.  I don't know if they let us take more if we didn't take enough or because we caught so much they figure the fishery is good and its okay to keep going. From the DFW articles I've read the catch has been good in the last few years.

Greg and I got an opportunity to crab a bit this year and the crabbing was pretty good. We invited our friends Kelvin and Patty to join us since their boat was out of commission and I like company.

 

 

The crabs must be male and minimum size of 6.25 inches. 5 crabs per person/day limit.  Here's a nice bucket of Dungeness headed for the crab pot. Wrangling crabs out of the trap into the bucket can be a bit challenging at times. For some unknown reason crabs calm down when you turn them on their backs so if they are too belligerent we flip them.

Once we are back to the dock Greg readys for the really messy part - killing and cleaning. I used to do this part but it was too traumatic (once I chopped one in half and the heart was still in tact and still beating).  It was also very messy. Now Greg turns them upside down, grabs their left legs in one hand and right ones in the other. He then smacks the carapace (back shell) on a dock cleat or some other hard edged object. The crab is ripped in two, the carapace drops in the water and the two remaining halves are swished in the ocean to clean.

 

Watch out for those punchers!



 

 After five minutes in the pressure cooker and a little cooling down time, its time to start shelling and picking. I can't do this without eating as I go. At little bowl of water to dip my fingers in helps keep the little bits of shell out of the meat.

 

 

Just look at all this yummy fresh crab! As far as I'm concerned the best way to eat crab is straight out of the shell. I can easily eat two whole crabs at a time.

 

I was really looking forward to more crabbing but it was time to head south. Can't crab in Mexico, and most of that which is caught goes to restaurnats, so I'll have to swithch to eating shrimp. Poor me!